here, where bluebirds never fly, the sky is full. satellites and radio signals and static and songs that i never drempt i could sing. so many songs.
so many ghostships and spaceships and magic decoder rings and promises and sugar. the sky is sticky with sugar and then i catch a whiff of my infected form and my eyes water.
i close my eys and the painted sky is there. waiting. i slowly drift. upward. like a helium feather encased in light. and then i hear it. radiohead. "there there". and i sway softly.
"why so green and lonely, heaven sent you to me". and i smile as big as the painted sky. "we are accidents waiting to happen". we really are. i love you.