the rain falls like brick walls
pounding against my skin
in the same way
you would strike a block of ice
with an ice pick

I need something strange to soothe me
almost willing to host some parasites to use me

stairs
I am usually
climbing them
or I am falling down them
a means to no end
I am addicted
to picking myself up
off of the grass or pavement
over and over again
you, her, and them
my memories
are a separate world that I live in

my unidentified flying heart
re-enters the atmosphere
and breaks apart
it becomes smaller
with each return flight back
from a distant star

we think we are humans
but we are not
we are only thoughts
and thoughts can rot
decay
and break apart
then reassemble themselves
into a better thought
to take its course again
maybe it will be buried
or maybe it will take flight with the wind