****

It's raining. There's mud on my shoes and I'm breathing hard. I take a handful of earth from the grave I made and mull it between my palms. I wonder if her grave will be my own. I can't get the blood off my hands, no matter how hard I try. I made too many mistakes. My clothes will be found in the area. I called her too recently. I shouldn't have gone. If it hadn't been that moment, this would all be a bad dream. I shake myself, hit the wall, scream. It's real and I know it too well. I've gone too far. I haven't gone far enough. The only way they won't find me is if I'm gone;gone forever. Heights put me on edge but I think how ironic that is as I stand on the edge of the world. I can't do it. Ashamed, I turn to step back down, but I slip. It's raining and the stone is slick with water and the mud from my shoes. As I fall I realize it wasn't that ironic.

a complex, sad life

A blank face hangs on the wall. It wonders if it will be given life or have it snatched away in a smear of color. Its bare expression cries out "claim me, I'm lonely!" No one answers its pleas. Every night it chokes on chemicals trying to destroy remnants of a past life. A seemingly natural object, a number of leaves, rests atop the pathetic pallet, but they are no more real than the paperback book which tarnishes its form. With each day it is born anew, but with each day it shall be murdered in less time than it took to create. A futile cycle of life, unbeknownst by any, is its sole existence.

less simple

At the front of the room there is a dry erase board. Atop the board rests a strand of leaves. The board is a rectangular pyramid, technically speaking, and thus has ninety degree angles and is three dimensional. It is blank and at its base lies the means to draw and erase markings on it.

simple>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>complex

The board is white. There are leaves on the top. It has four sides and it looks like a rectangle. There are four erasers and two markers. The board is white.