What are they? Where did they come from? I do not like crimson. It clashes with the terrible orange of the bleak, malignant sands that stretch as far one might care to look. They're not supposed to be here. They don't fit? Where did they come from?
So many questions. Focus deserted me weeks ago. I'm not getting any answers. Why won't they respond? Why?! I can't resist but to spew questions and inquiry. I sleep, I breathe, I cringe at my disparate inadequacy but the questions keep, keep coming. Bouncing off the ignorant, stupid monoliths like the elements.
I hate red. My blood is red. And smooth. Or brown. Dried, scattered on the dust, sucked through the teeth of the wind and stolen by the sun's condescending kiss. They mock me. I don't understand.
This is not why I'm here. Someone find me.
Please.
Tell me why. WHY. Unfathomably, inexplicably, immeasurably colossal. Gigantic. Obviously unperturbed by the elements. Rage is beneath me. Darkness never comes. But defeat...
I will never be satisfied with not knowing.
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