Here I, the young bud, lie in bed, abusing myself, as I wait to bloom. The shadow dances on the cave wall, mocking the prisoner as he pulls the cold, heavy chains that keep him there. Taking no pleasure from my partial arrousal, my thirsty roots search the dry soil. The little turtle slowly sticks his head out of his shell, sees himself in the pond, and quickly sticks it back in. I stroke and at the climax I shoot dust. A man chases a boy through the dark wilderness. He slips in the snow, slides onto a frozen pond. The ice starts to crack. Seeing the plant, the old sage lifted the limp flower, opened his canteen allowing the soil to drink. "Look at you resting there, cold and lonely, HA! Go seek your melting point. See the many as nought and ten thousand things will disolve into the river, everflowing, over rocks and its bed, widening its banks as it stretches through the void." |