The Silent Man

Creation upon nothing;
The birth of an idea.
No one needs saving
In this dreaded place we appear.

The cat has two antlers,
The dog has webbed feet.
Merlot from the French Cellars -
High, as high and sleepy.

We meet again,
Bows bent and drawn.
And to my disdain
Your hair is ripped and torn.

I walk down the path
Which I take every day,
And I notice soon enough
This small tuff of hay.

Smouldering in the bristling heat -
O' mighty Apollo!
His rays of heat meet
And disintegration soon follows.


Uhh... have fun. Wasted day in art... didn't get anything done. Tomorrow is RockFest! Yay! Performing with this crazy bunch is rocking. Who knows what kind of nonsense will happen tmr?
Meh... but for now homework...

Mug on... Mug on...