My Pretty Pretty

Hello lads. Guess what the world was doing today? That's right, it was swirling around and distorting things. Mother O' Nature was a playful lass this morn, seems. The hordes of dole-bludgers who make a habit of hugging her leafy erections couldn't even irritate her. Nothing could stop her pride and joy from shedding golden beams over the sprouting orgy of unquestioning life.

She holds my every desire and fuels them day after day. And from time to time I give a little back: a few young frogs swimming in the soil, borne from her rapturous weather. And on these occasions, when we connect, neither hell nor heaven can be. Instead, they wait for the lazy smoke to rise from the church and end the holiday.

It sickens me to see them try. Their arms wrapped and their unwashed hair wrapped, and they're wrapped. But they can never get deep enough inside to play God. It's never more than a horrible fad; a scene.

I can crawl in her caverns, I can roll in her fields and I can slip in and out of her favour, but she'll remain unchanged throughout the seasons, like an immobile stone. And though her hills provide me with vital nutrients and a place to be, her weary smile holds out for a walk in the aisle. O but how hot she is!