words are boring me lately.
every story I read seems to
be baiting me to jump.
the ledges I write remind me
that flying is falling.
dry ink is apalling;
chalk outlines look like milk
in the rain;
falling isnt flying at all.
I have to remind myself of that.
I'm selfish.
I'm selfish.
my shelves sit full.
it all ends.
both sides.
no flying.
no falling.
I'm falling.
I'm lying.
I wouldnt call me either.