It's crawling somewhere
Unseen
Amongst tall wild flowers
Breathing slowly
Its lungs expanding with cold crisp
Air.
It's dangling somewhere from old
Willow branches
Photosynthesizing beneath
That tortured immortal sun.
It cannot be confined by money
Or walls
Women
Or half filled liquor bottles
Polluting stale air
It's floating somewhere in a screaming river
No course. No destination.
Destined for never.
I was thinking about it today
As I walked in hungover circles
In the department store warehouse
The manager saw my bloodshot eyes
And asked "WHATS TAKING SO LONG RAY? WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO BE DONE!?"
I think I am done now.
It's burrowing somewhere in burning desert sands.
It's smiling. Smirking.
It's laughing at me.
The moth and the 40 watt bulb.
I think I am done now.
Burning my wings again and again
And again.