chirp-i-derp chickadee!
flee across the sea with me to seek foreign fantasies,
we won't need anything but our hands our feet our lips reaching.
kick the dust up and make a ruckus,
we were born to spit fire.
funny thing, desire, always takes you into the inferno,
burning the whole, cleanse and resew the form from hollowness.
in all of this we are but sand in the wind,
minuscule molecules floating on the whims of something much greater.
so I plan on claiming myself, and naming myself
captain.
I plan to trust my intuition to bring all my wildest dreams to fruition.
because what is life worth if I concede to to bow and serve the scemes of men who believe they deserve to hold power over me - HA!
as if anyone could mold me hold me fold me up into cookie-cutter slots.
I spit on you!
catch me if you can, big brother,
you might take my body but you'll never touch my soul,
she's already soaring through saturn's rings,
slinging sapphires round to isis and winking at the moon,
being rewoven through the mother's loom,
knit back into the cosmic womb.
now begin again.