mouseboy-thirdclass

Time never slows, three trumpets sing a mournful tune of chalk outlines.We burn them and muffle their sounds to waste away all of the evidence. The cars never slow, the sun and the moon still play hide and seek, only occasionally catching one another. Flowers still bloom and die while trees wilt and decay and are eventually reborn because time never slows. There are still some of us who shout poetry from rooftops at nothing, maybe and audience of bursting stars under the expanse of an infinate night sky. Those are the ones who refuse to grow old, thought they eventually die as well. I suppose it is the nature of thing a