Desert-ed.

Fleeting flying happiness.
Running smiling time.
And I run and I run try to catch what you call life.
And the words fill up my brain and the meaning just leaves.
Now I feel deserted and empty.
Like the little cactus you used to sing songs about.
Prickprickprick.
You'd tell me the cactus - its gonna - its gonna.
Get.
You.
And when it does, you told me, in sweet melody and harmony, its gonna hurt.
It will.
It's gonna gonna gonna.
Mister Cactus won't you soften.
Mister Cactus won't you help.
MiMiMiMiiiister.
Cac-tus.
And the birds start a runnin' when the lizards stop a flyin' and the people start a fallin'. Dear Mister Caaaaaaactus. Prick. Me. Now. -

~Maria