Wandering Mind

Here I write, but I don't know why it's either that or stare at the sky, and as I ponder what to scribe next, inspiration fills my text. The infamous thoughts swirl all about, smearing together until they come out, creating clear green skies filled with mingling flies and rolling red grassy knolls with fluffy plants sprouting bowls. As scaly monkeys swim through the air I catch a whiff of a couch tree over there, supporting burley potatoes holding a remote and a flair, throwing their garbage overhead without a care. And then without another thought it fades onto an orange fog, so thick that all of the images disappear into the smog.