My Diary: My Lives

The morning was wreathed in buttercups‭ ‬-‭ ‬hands were removed from breast pockets to grasp them.‭ ‬The ladder leant against nothing and cast man like shadows.‭ ‬I pulled the room apart to form a field and walked out in it until the weather‭ (‬still walking on stilts‭) ‬changed and the rain man danced.‭ ‬I danced with a lady who had a mobile phone for a head.

My Lives

My Lives

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