Was it expected?
Did I lie?
Could I prevent it?
Could I try not to cry?

Was it routine?
Did you sigh?
What else could you do?
You needed to fly.

The trench beckons.
I dropped an item,
Years ago,
And I want it back.

The pressure builds,
But the glass holds
And the creatures stare,
Curious, at the alien.

The trench swallows.
Darkness in the descent.
A keen eye will not help.
The picture in my mind calls.

The pressure overcomes.
My glass shield shatters.
The sea caresses,
And I've found it.

Anchored again.

Two friends, two lively runaways
Skin tinted light bulb white-
A vague starched contrast to pistachio Mays

So many tides of turquoise fears
Lave rooted feet in flight unseen thus far  
In moon parade resulted earthly years
Few never landing kites are brushed against a shooting star

Wait! Now listen. There he comes.
Vein lianas pierce his pale wrists-
Pan plants steps on earthy lumps -
This straying soul the aging still resists

You may spot him in a forest
Leaving seasoned feral brae
With some berries wild in August,
Sweetening strangers' welcomed stay

"Have you seen my Darling, boys?
She wears ribbons in her hair
Darns old lovely teddy toys
Pray this life to her is fair."

"No, but say the author tells the truth
Lives your Wendy in a city
And her children know the sooth
They are little, yet so gritty"

Peter smiled :"Well, then I will bring them all
They'll attend the fairies' ball!
Now close your eyes and let us fall
If muffled in a fairy dust no harm will ever you befall

Onward, over a forgotten cave
Peter's flute in silence lays
Upward for a foggy cradle crave
Three flying figures in ablaze

What's this? What's this?
What a contraption.
Analysis indicates the need for electricity.
A possible heating unit? Fascinating.

All that remains are these relics.
This wasteland is littered with artifacts,
Ancient and rusting.
Will I become this death?

I want to get home so that I can sleep for 17 hours with my mouth hung open so wide you’d mistake it for a black vortex where planes and people and boats and Ameillia Earharts go mysteriously missing and it petrifies the **** out of you that these things exist on this planet if you think about it for too long your eyes beady and blending into the dark of your bedroom or I want to jump out of my window and die or run up and down the four flights of stairs in my ****** apartment complex until I feel the muscles and tendons and ****** pink strings in the meat of my thick thighs burn and come to life and the fat rupture and break apart beneath my skin, or maybe I can just run a regular marathon but that’s so ******* boring that I would rather gouge out hollows between my ribs with a spoon because why the **** would I want to run in a straight line, I want to run up and down and zig and zag and left and right and upside-down and on my head and with my legs ******* behind my back and at the speed of light like the energy-never-dies organism that I am, all that I am really comprised of, the bare bones of what this body is broken down into in actuality, except I swear to ******* God I better die one day

The universe is ever expanding.
Space doesn't end,
And it keeps going.
There is beauty in the nothingness.
Nebulas painted across what we call the sky.
Time marches, eons pass,
Plasma and dirt and ice remain.
We are a blip.
An anomaly that manifested.
But if not for us,
Who would know the terrifying awe
of the cosmos?

Let's bend at your angles.
Be equilateral at your sides.
I'm an x on your y axis,
And I'm plotting your points.