I peck the keys with one
finger of one hand as the new
Christmas kitten lays content
and warm curled upon my
chest and folded into the crook
of my left arm, his purr motor
at full rev, this his preferred napping
perch whenever I sit at my computer,
little hedonist that he is.

And who am I to object to these
moments of shared warm affection?

Why do I live, why do I die?
Why do I live, why do I cry?
Here is the SOS of a man in distress:

I've never had both feet upon the ground.
I'd rather be a bird,
I don't fit into this skin.
I'd like to see the world turned upside down;
If ever it were beautiful -
It's lovelier from above, from above.

I've always confused life
with the comic strips,
Even wished I could transform.
I feel something -
That draws me
That draws me
That draws me up.
 
Into the great lotto of the universe,
I don't have the right numbers;
I don't fit into this skin.
I don't want to be a robot -
Eating, working, sleeping.
 
Why do I live, why do I die?
Why do I live, why do I cry?
I think I'm catching waves
From another world.

I've never had both feet upon the ground;
I'd rather be a bird.
I'd like to see the world turned upside down -
I'd rather be a bird.

Sleep, child, sleep.