a lot of bluster

these days the noise becomes more electrical than signal with live wire blasting a hole in my heart. not beating. because the white elephant has decided to paint herself with faces of you enchanted by the many possibilities - routes becomes highways and a path turns dynamic, dynamite blasting all that static whispers nudging along: they are like little fishes swimming in a soon to be gone reservoir when the sun has gotten fatigued, decided to fall to earth throwing her arms out, a cry for a star coming towards but wait. it is already turning mellow those green turning the idealistic into something poignant then splashed with skeptic dots like pimples protruding out of a whale whose lungs rebelled, suffering no more a holding of breath - when fires dry out even rainforest lush. go be a fish the sea urchin says as a pimple gets pricked by thorny needles insightful they dissolve those illusions of wishful stars quite damning and then gills came along, another purchase at the local grocery store where a fish decides to take a philosophical spin at the turning of events - hateful stars turning ripe fruits black. and then the hoarders left their hiding places finding mellow days swept away with a white elephant crashing past golden gates no longer yellow.