simply simple simplicity (in painstakingly intricate perfection)

connect the dots, one by one, create a frame, never a picture

like a dovebutterflystar I want to flyflyfly away-

so far away, and into a world painted in bright reds and vivid blues

escape, I wish for an escape from this dulldreary (and ever-so-redundant and repetitive) life

to adventures and storybook neverendings, with redgold dragons and bluegreen fairies to accompany me on the long journey-

(but I must ask, is any of that true happiness? is this illiterate literacy we call imagination powerful enough to compensate for a deadly lack of social interaction? are these longfancy words we parade around with truly anything more than symbols on a page making sense?)

well, can you say it isn't?

(touche.)

Indeed.

But back to the senselesssenseless prose chortling across rivers of solid gold italicboldunderlining at you, the reader, begging you across. how can you deny them? the poorsouls who wait out everysingleday for your eyes to get lost in their lovely fonts and formatting, and linger, linger eversoclose to the brink- to the edge of the graygraymurky waters, the crossing point between here and forever and never, all of them meet in this magicgrotesque land we call-

(and what do we call it?)

well, now... I'm not sure.

(but you created it, shouldn't you know?)

ha, I did not create it, the words created it, we are merely architects, they are the workers who stack the bricks- in fact, they are both the bricks and the workers, without them, this would be impossible.

(well then... what are we?)

we?

(we.)

well we are... nothing, I suppose.

(nothing? nothing at all?)

nope, nothing.

(...ah, well, please continue.)

gladly.

As I was saying before the digression ran rampant, this, stunning, shocking, terrifyinglybeautiful world. which we call, ever so proudly, and ever so simply, we call it-