the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Mismatched Flight Plans

While this empire was built out of guilt and desire,
My brittle bones in a tepee were stolen, broken down,
A stick for a brick from shattered past
To shatter glass as a plane roars over
And I'm drowned by the intimidation's call,
Echoing off of invisible walls.
Pattered inhale and shaky lines,
Lying on a set struck under red curtain fire.
I'll just walk off the stage, I'm late for the flight.
(The conclusion trails off and fades into the night,
The name has been shortened and by now loses sight.)
So now it's time to count the reasons to come home:
One is to family that I can call my own...
And everyone else will pull back like rubber bands,
Trapped under wine corks and fermented bottle caps.
I'll just get on my knees, pray to God, and dig deep
Because I won't find a savior after thirty thousand feet.

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