Change of pace as outer space takes a case to offload and unload. A veritable smorgasbord of frogs, toads and green lily pads. Heavy with wet and sopping with moisture, the rain rains and rains until it rains no more.
Dry earth throws up from the onslaught. A bloated feeling at the water table, too long, too far apart and the heart of it convulses on the rhythm of rejection.
Rejection of the taste and an expulsion of the paste that makes itself from the green into the red. Or the red into the green. It's all about order. Or disorder. Whichever comes first. Or last for that matter of anti-matter in respect.
Green on red or red on green leaves nothing but the darkness in between that otherwise is never seen.
Written on Wednesday, 13 December 2006