Angry Chair

Sitting on my angry chair, looking down on things. Looks hazy from up here, can make out some figures between the big grey clouds though. Strange, the air's kind of thin, and it's cold. What looked clear seems different now. Different as in clearer or now unclear. I can hear things that i could not before, that's interesting. I can see... well, it's hazy as i said. There's nothing much to touch here, could try grabbing a cloud, but they don't like that. It's good, this chair i've got, and this place i've found. It's good to survey and be detached from it all. No, not really. But it is good to atleast survey from this perch, but might be nice to dive in once in a while, it's not alowed though. Can't have the cake and eat it. Who said that? I can hear music very well from up here, you see, you can't touch it, it's already been recorded and there's fuck all you can do to it. It touches you though, i guess one is not wholly detached, or maybe it's a one-way street. Where am i going, and for how long will or must i be here? My beard has grown long, it's almost touching my feet, will need to do something about that. You don't need to eat or drink, or very little maybe, in that way it's a bit different here. Strangely we don't get to see the sun much, i can't remember ever seeing it, there is a greyish light here though, so i imagine it must be around somewhere. And who is we? Well, me, me and me i would think. I don't feel alone, but if i look around i don't see anyone else here, so it's just the three of us.

Now, i'm a little bored. It seems like ages since i spoke with anyone else, and the three of us have similar points of view, so that can be quite a bitch. Sometimes one of us vanishes for a bit, probably to just get away for a while. I don't remember ever doing that though.

It's a good chair, serves us well. It wasn't always angry, and even now it's not very angry, just a little pissed off. Perhaps i should call it an irritated chair, but that doesn't sound as good, besides, i was listening to a song called angry chair when i started.

And now i shall end with a little poem.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Most poems rhyme,

But this one doesn't.