April showers wash away our innocence. (Or, perhaps, our sins.) We've forced the world into a dark hole. We smile inside our veins. We're experiencing mild emotions, trapped in broken cycles of endless patterns. We're staring at Seattle and the theme (depression often leads to suicide) is carved in a tree with no leaves, flowers with no friends. Forgive me for this brief moment of self-indulgence. I'm merely trying to establish a setting. (Or, perhaps, suggest a mood. Pick one at random.) I'm focussing on the aftermath of sarcastic squirrels. Spring is just another fad that we're learning to control. The skies are having sex behind my back. Babies are born on silk clouds. The sun is taking a coffee break. Day after day after night after day I'm watching the world turn us inside out. April showers bring May flower girls, blonde and 18. I can't wait to play the fool and give you advice. I get my own day.
