so as much as its "not very nice" to say whoops at random times when i cut my brother's hair, its just a little too much fun to stop. (:
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if fear was a color it would be violet; and that was exactly the color of her eyes when she walked in. her clothes were all ripped and her face streaked with dirt. "i tripped while crossing a minefield of you" she said, before dream and reality distorted and she was standing at the edge of his bed, and then a single thought formed in his mind: no. before he was awake, and she was long gone.
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i tried to find you, i swear, but you just weren't there. i looked under my bed and in my closet, your usual hangouts. i know you like those dark spaces where your friends come out to play, but nothing. it was as if you had just vanished, and its not possible because i created you, you were and still are very much a part of my imagination, so tell me how did this happen, because i'm sitting here thinking my brains out, and i'm imagining you that little spin top hat you wanted so bad last christmas when you saw that calvin got one in his cereal box, but imagining you, nothing. not even a shadow. how come i can't find you anymore?
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the king of oranges parades his crown of thorns in the backyard of his mother's house. he's got a ski pole for a sword, and a garbage lid for a shield, and he's thinking i'll never survive in Afghanistan.
