Once i had sailed on that boat, and it sank, and i drowned, it had seemed. but we cant drown. existance wont let us.



Running through the fields of flowers.


I can see you.


That is you, right?


Because, truth is, your all I see anymore.


Can you see those paper birds as they fly? They are almost real. Almost just like us.


Because we are all real right?


But suddenly I'm not in a field, but alone. I'm the dark.


I'm crying, and I cant remember why.


But the tears fall like ink drops.


My pillow a sort of daranged canvas.


But where the heck did my eraser go?


If none of this is real, then why can't I get another chance at this picture?


But maybe it's not so bad like this. it's more real.


More true than anything from before.


And yet none of it is real.


Not in a world made of paper