why would you think that?

a man with gold buys a golden statue, and ask the workers: is that not wonder? but he already knows the answer, for the blushing damsels are always going pink when they brush past - like a canvas dripping ink, rainbow colors splattering across the sky and a whimsical cat flies across the dungeon: come get me, a jailer startled, leaps from his chair bolts the doors, eager to do his duty till a roar came about as another cat rushes in but the door does hold. whew. till the crash is suddenly made. then 2 gigantic lions roared, a quivering guard struggles to get away from punishment undeserved; i've got fish he says, then gets chewed up, like some toy. it's not fair, yelled the screen maker who found the script unpleasant - horrendous even but canvas paintings do not spit back verbiage confounding. it's barely in the legal agreements the lawyers said while perusing each paper, word by word till the dozing began to come about with an 80 hour work week. horrendous definitely. the cats got reducted, it simply did not meet the criteria, since when did cats get to play boss? the golden statue cracked a smile, then the granite within got chipped. the workers swore they did not take the gold home, what's a guy got to do? then the trembles began, it began like for a long time till the blushing damsels got tired of turning pink, they swore, gave their middle fingers and called it quits. a screen writer collapses from sheer exhaustion, this is all too much, went out for the count and the words stopped filling the pages. what now? no movement, no life, no death, no nothing till even the silence got too heavy, dense, like oppression. solid as a wall. you could feel the pressing on all sides, they called it dark matter but i am no quantum physicists. silence getting more heavy. it is a reckoning, it is a warning. it is a sheer tidal wave washing out existence. and that silence only became important when the ink bled dry. in that silence, some said they heard a voice, others said they replayed events, with rainbow colored skies faltering. some said regret, others joy. it was like a first date, all casual and clammy at the same time, recalling differently those fleeting space: blank pages to be littered with muses, a pony, a donkey, or a dog. it was like a break up, an awakening when a lover spurned decides that promises were meant to be broken. and of the lover? it's strange, it's odd, it's a wonder because silence did stretch - it s t r etc he d into e ter nity.