It follows suit with the same flaws.
Commanded by no rule of composition or any laws.
A child's dream, and artist's nightmare.
Looking at such things turn my spine - I twitch -
But no I do not care.
It did make my eyes swell,
Like little round sponges.
I write this spun, and out of my gourd,
And still your art made me tired and bored.
Just another silly little improv.
I see the sun drape the landscape in its' golden yellow grip in the rain through the clouds and trees, and I couldn't believe; no one was watching it with me.