mRtOm

Flowers in my hair, leaves in my pockets... Eyes sunk back into their sockects... Pupils the size of baseballs... Twirly whirly patterns on the walls... Inside & out at the same time... Can I speak or am I a mime? Trees & clouds mixing together like paint... Overwhelmed by this strange situation, I feel I could faint... Eyes are scratched out but still starring me down... Following his back tire all over town... Pretty little blonde girls with wide blue eyes... Pixies & dragons dancing in the sky... Laughing, crying for no reason at all... Tumbling, tripping, slipping, now I fall... "Are we going down a hill yet?" is what I ask