My mom has the strength to birth me and the strength to bury me. She will die. She will die soon. I will die soon. I will say hi to her the day after I die from the sky. The sky will kill me, and I will live in the sky until the sky dies. The stars will bury the sky in space. Space will bury the stars in time. Time will bury itself in eternity.
I may enjoy creating a human with a female human. A child will see green leaves with green eyes. A black nurse will bury a blue baby between its dead parents beside a white hospital. I apologize in advance, because I do not want to do what anyone else wants me to do. I want to plant a tree in my belly button. A man in Russia had a tree in his lung, did he? I know I am helpless, because I want to save everyone from dying early but am quickly killing myself by living this way. Candy Corn Oreos are yummy. They are almost Birthday Cake. I used Mom's American Express credit card to buy Tim a Big Bang Theory T-shirt for his birthday. In one week, I am meeting a librarian at a library to be allowed to volunteer to shelve books. I hope my time fills up with good deeds and happy people.
I've listened to three M83 songs just now, and now I'm listening to Dancing Mountains. The last thing I listened to was Neil Degrasse Tyson say the atoms in our bodies came from stars. He feels big. We are in the universe. The universe is in us.
I feel like a lame, crusty goat. Sleepy. Sweaty. Alone. Lost. Slow. Twitchy. Thirsty.
I'm stepping along a misty mountainside, looking far away. It's quiet. It's the middle of the day. Nothing else is moving. I feel like laying down but also that there is something important to do but I can't think of what it is. I feel taller than anything. I think that if I zoomed out all I could see is myself.
Oblivion soundtrack. I haven't seen it. All I need to do is correct every mistake I come across.
Proof! Boom! Phizzzz....
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