Lambs are born with rainbow trout skins that shimmer as they bounce on the fields of pink worm grass. Worms of every species lie slick against each other, a glistening surface on the scorched Earth. If you listen carefully you can hear their sound, a sound that resembles someone you hate clapping whilst they eat. The bone gate squeeks as the gardener enters with a brand new lawn mower every single day. He screams wildly as he pushes the blades over the worms that splash up against his unkempt beird. A beird made from snakes with Venus Flytrap mouths that snap as the bits of worms act as pink obese wingless flies.
Concrete daffodills, bloom as far as the eye can't see.
Butterflys fail to fly as their wings are laden with metallic missiles the size of pen tops.
The nights get lighter and cricket matches are played by men dressed in blacks who don't keep score.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment