voile

*edit* Screw that post I have a better one.

There's something primal that arises in me, upon sitting at my desk in my little basement dwelling, gazing up at the cloud-patched sky, enjoying the breeze on my face... listening to the little twerp neighbour kid practicing piano. I don't mind the piano. It reminds me of my own young, nimble fingers racing across ivory keys all those years ago, playing the exact same songs, whilst my mother kept an eager, open ear to any pauses in my playing. Practice! She would call out from the second floor. No, the piano I don't mind. But then the piano stops, and my skin starts to tinge green... and my nails grow into claws... and my pupils dilate with primal rage... because that's when the twerp neighbour kid starts practicing his trombone.



This is really good... I can't stop listening to the "Only El-P Remix". It quite suits my cloudy mood. Yaaarr.