Thursday, 15 November 2012

The part, right before you wake up, where your sleep coated brain tells you confusing stories.

The tree weighs down with the weight of a swing and the child sitting doesn't remain a child for too long. He becomes an old man with a rough beard and yellowing eyes. The sky comes down in a sweeping layer of mud and rain. The birds resting on the tree fly away in a frenzy. The face of the man, all papery and peeling, leaks tar coloured blood.

When it stops raining, the tree disappears. The man folds himself into a grave. Atop the grave is a plant that appears to be waking up.

Then the rains come again. 

No comments:

Post a Comment