Cut

The lazy visionary slurped his ice-cream, noiselessly. Wind outside, and it chimed.

The wars were on; men in funny hats spilt blood with elan. That takes skill, so we applaud...

What is within is non-existent. "Non- non- non-" makes a music all its own.

On our own, we're beside. The grass endures, and it's cut, remorselessly.