Back to the first side of things
Where the water trickles down
To the bottom of your feet dragging
Lagging computer screens
Abandoning last years dreams
To take a whole new trek across
The plains as a seed
Flying on the wind and battling
Oxygenated monsters screaming
Bombing for breathing
The hold of a dead pigeon’s wingspan
Folding blankets of freshly knit
Secretive ****

We were over indulged
To the point of tipping over
Our economies buldged
Till they burst a trickling odor
We were all just inside
Forgetting life without strides
Perhaps we’re all just
Loosing our minds

Back to the first side of things
Where my ring-worms congratulate
My acceptance as a janitor
In a seven story basement