zin-k-rept-ypt

with nothing to do and still a many million more things in hand and a lazy sky above my hazy eyes try to trace meanings out of the clouds that wander the sky cloud patterns the shape of answers or apples should show some way, some way out of here or nowhere to somewhere else somewhere else and somewhere else from there and then on to nowhere and possibly back to here once again to sit with nothing to do, and yet a million things in hand beneath the sky and wandering clouds, illegible cloud patterns the scripted sky with stories of everything underneath the shape of answers or apples green red not blue may be pink while the night most naturally follows the day and the days most painfully follow nights