Recollections Of A Melody Flying Creature

      Move Of The Slipping 

For the most part yellow. It was by all accounts his inclination. Not love like Gogh.
Yellow lights covered the entire room, 
Be that as it may, not a single window was to be seen.
No daylight. His separation from life was under the  pipedreams of being excessively near it. Excessively near sunshine, however you couldn’t think that it’s regardless of the possibility that you grasped the sun, blinded.
It was a dark gap swarming with yellow. Looked so inviting, yet the more I went close it, the more it appeared to move away. More distant. I was ideal amidst it, floating, yet it wasn’t around me. 
” You resemble a holy messenger. ” 
As arbitrare as a squirrel, some place amidst a rich stream, flying around a broken leg, eating rice.
Also, as wonderful as the notes being conceived by a youngster wonder as yet learning.
I am towing my vessel to a cold sand trap.
It’s a lovely world. 
Yellow lighting.
Scratched backs.
Just some of them loaded with affection, what’s more others overflowing with befuddled acknowledgement.
What’s more, you’re up until this point.

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