Flight patterns
ripped
like
shredded
ideas
lost
in
a
glorious
maze
fluttering
to the
surface
of
the
earth
each an
individual
soul
left
to
it’s own
demise.
No parachute
to
staunch
the
impact
crashing
like
meteors
into
strang­ers
lives
creating
rifts
in
relationships
and
cutting ties
with
old
blankets.
We’re
all
a domino
effect
the
butterflies
can’t
compete
with.
A long
lasting
impression
on
heartskin
leaving
arrows
and
jagged
st­itches.
Just
little
dotted
lines on
worn
out
canvas
flight patterns
long
since
burned
into
extinction.