I grabbed at the sheets,
I swelled and then sneezed a scattered plot
Distracted thoughts put to rest
As consciousness reached its limit,
A pilot rushing to sleep
As all the blood rushed down to his feet.
He drew a line and erased it again
He drew a line and erased it again,
Gray matter was a fact,
Sweaty palms, shavings, and a pencil tracing back
To where it all best fit in,
A parachute tucked in between the cushions,
A note in hand that I never handed in.