Dreamscape
And there we were, lying upon soft pillows and under cozy blankets that saved us from reality. It wasn't comfortable at all though... Because his wooden hands were made of an oak tree.
I love the smell of your tambourine. I never liked musicians cause the only thing they care about is music. But this round instrument assured me that you must be someone reliable.
Glowing thought had reached his mind. What if she was darker than him? What if she was darkness? He would glitter her up and wait until she sparks.
My handds brushed the clouds. I wanted the bad wheather to go away, but no magic trick helped. And so I became indifferent to every subtle sign of wonder.
He would never give a single coin to a person that asks for it. He loved everything that he owned after working so hard and all those objects made him feel alive. And then came a strom that didn't ask for anything, yet took all his life.
Oh how lovely impressed I was by his style! Baggy pants, smell of old cigarettes, and most of all, his meanness to me! I cannot get over this nasty boy I never met.