if it were up to me (and it isn't, it's up to dice) the universe would be made of a mixture of purples and half-aware blues,
separated only by the sardonic coolness of hologram grids.
doctor doctor! doctor doctor! focus on the wound the sun is inflicting upon the ocean riddled
with streaks of white, i'm losing the saline in its scent
and all that remains (all that shall remain) is reddened sand.
furthermore i would allow bamboo to grow anywhere it pleases
not a **** but a gift from the ground below
not messing up floor plans but rather improving them in a very experimental way you wouldn't understand
the architecture is okay
the sky is okay
the rain is full of acid but it's otherwise okay
oh please get up off the ground i need to clean it