4th November 2010
drops of pink red sky
The streets of the virtual village are paved with promise, beautiful facades in the alleys, trees that grow in the sky to pink clouds from which raindrops fall on hot skin, to market is worn. Smiling faces behind the windows of the poor drops the fantasies with fantasy mix, the change does not even cross the street when someone dreams of hard cash to make because so many has sheer nonsense for true meaning.
The streets of the virtual village lead to seducers, where the head is heavy with many ideals, to raise them above others, until they are exposed by the reality that catches anyone confused ideal real. From the trees fall leaves, heavy as lead and leaden, like a curtain behind the next curtain hangs.
The streets are wide of the virtual village, invite you to stroll, to the inefficiency creeps, grip and smothered hope of escape. Every street corner is the next street corner in the run to what we already know because you have not yet detected. I surf therefore I am.
The Streets of the virtual town lead to nothing, because nothing is cheap, as there was nothing but a little over nothing. Nothing at all is the magnificent facade, the trees that grow in the pink sky, from which drops fall on poor drop.
Somewhere someone laughs. Evil. On the streets of the virtual village.
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