i have a cold.

the pressures pulsating in his upper nasal passages push the mind out of the crown and up through the atmosphere into his dreams. the lifted state of the insidious thoughts he dreamt up can't match those that he witnessed through the eyes of another. accidental and irreversable sparks fly deep into the red sky. the scales grow and cover his chest, disguising the empty crevice where his muscles used to pump the river-like lifeline of intensity. microbacteria spread and eat the spongiformed folds in the heavens. orange-peel moon rises above the foggy clouds that disguise the polluted sky as a silky veil. unraveling the knots that form his self-righteous self-schemas and self-esteem blossoms into self-efficacy. too bad my self-perceived false consensus is, in actuality, nothing but a false uniqueness effect. fuck, look at me, i'm learning. lifeline pulsing in my mind; too bad she's too young; too bad she's too fun; too bad she's too fucked up; too bad she's too gone. gazing into his corneia only to realize it's void and blank; he has no pupils. no students. no one to learn. no one to throw their hands up to the sky to grab his mind and bring it back down to reality from the dreamy cloud-whisps...no one to tame his metaphors and similes and confusion and have you ever seen love personified?