why not

the lack of a person storms in through the blinded windows like a moonless night or a jar of unrhyming cello notes sprinkled upon the ground and stared at or a tear drop given birth to and abandoned or a child stabbing an electric socket with a fork over and over and over again until the socket keels over and dies or an old man who exists only in my head or me sitting and trying to justify and rationalize the mundanity of this post-sadness day as an event to be built upon, the foundations of what the adult world calls maturity maybe i wish i could just stay enveloped in a hazy daydream