Hurtling through the air,
slicing jacknife through
everything you've never wanted
to be.
And you're an astronaut
or a bird hurtling
past space and sound
and you cannot see beyond
your own inequities
and your memories,
but you're flying away from them...
free...
streaming..
liquid...
flying.
And then you slam
back into your own head,
settling with that resounding thud
that the noise of shame makes.
Scream yourself into existance
so that you may breath too hard
and realize how human you are
while you sing yourself frustration,
insanity,
nonsense,
and lie in the grass,
feeling every blade,
tense and alive,
waiting for but a breath
so that they may catch you
on yet another
downward
spiral.
