There is the air, the water, and the grass that slips between my naked skin. It surronds the land locked feilds of dark green that roll with the hills and sway like sea grass on a warm beach. The trees scream, they tickle, and scratch the blue canvas that changes its paintings every hour of the day. They are so angry with their long nails some broken; some bleeding with color. It blinds the animals that walk up the grumpy trunks that sway in the hostile winds. This is what I thought of as I layed down on the bed of rocks that dug into my apoliptic back. It was covered in yellow scabs and tranluscent skin that showed my white spine that cuved along my vessel. My ribs looked like the black keys on the panio that were never played; not touched my nobodys skin but my own. It wasnt a pretty look neither was my hollow cheeks that burned with the slightest touch of the sun. I was so ugly even my hair pakced its bags and left. That is all I was a hollow ghost that stubbled across the water I was staring into. It breathed in and out effortlessly. It was alive and everything around me was so alive; so I sat there till I was alive also. I sat till my skin became pebbles, till my foggy breath became the misty air. I sat till my bones became water and I drifted to the ends of the earth.  I became alive with the roaring mountians and hostile winds. I breathed with the water. I was one with the sun; with the heart that would play my panio. It made such a delicate sound that chimed and pined against every ugly building and every metal car. It would play till the very end of time intself.