First Time Around

Morning. Yesterday. The time when sandcastles were built and ribbons were floating through space. Now. Afternoon. Today. All is this nasty dead fruit color. The cable slipped. The hands lost grip. Now, all is complete. This is how things are without hue? Is this the true nature? How can such evil lie with happiness, and even joy? The world is dead. The life is a lie. For all is without a purpose if no one decides to seek it. He's waiting for us. He loves me. And you, and that urchin outside. He can restore all beauty. Too bad that no one moves toward the right direction for assistance. Nope, we sit in the dark feeding upon each other. We're gross. Basically.