(an in-character dream journal for Piano Ends. Creative writing and amateur poetry.)

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(00/00/0000) - The field of strawberries smelled like fried up grease, it felt really heavy in my lungs, like it was dirtying my guts. The air felt warm, and the sky was clear, I remember that very vividly. I took a bite out of the strawberry, the insides were stringy like that of cooked chicken. When I woke up, I asked Ev if she could take me to that fried chicken place I like.

(dream in progress)

(dream in progress)