with my back still split open
and a head full of paper planes i sit

and dream of foreign lands and days that would
give rise to different things than i already know

pale fire lurks
in corners of my brain
to be extinguished
for it is not mine:
this light!

so i will leave this page
as my hand reaches up
to grab the coffee cup
and an unholy smile
crosses my face

to sneak back to its place
of origin

to crawl back
yes; to leave
cross references behind

and find its own soil.