I wait for the day I shoot vines from my fingertips
Long for the overgrowth to take my body back to the earth
I've taken so much from her
I'm sorry I love the feel of paper over a computer screen in my hands
The smell of ink and yellowing pages always gave me more comfort than any keyboard could.
But earth, darling, I promise you
When I return you can make me into the most beautiful foliage
Print a book on me.