I’m on the red eye.
Sleep is the connected state
of mind that they all share.
Then we jolt awake.
The plane is no longer
and the pilot was never.
I can see out of the window.
It is coming closer, dressed as death.
We hit it, I go out.
Then I wake up.
Cliché.

once the rain has stopped
the bad thoughts flood through.
my mind darkens and the clouds lighten.
they lighten their load
but mine becomes heavier.

i look at the time;
don’t trust anyone after nine PM,
not even yourself.

then again, i can’t trust anyone
anymore, not even during the day.

“Just disappear,” I echo.
Not out loud, obviously.
No one would pay attention.
No, no one does pay attention.

“It’s easy,” I think.
Just take the razor.
The razor that makes me
feel reminiscent of 1984.

“Red’s a beautiful colour,” I bargain.
If I could see the aftermath,
if I could see the red stain their lives,
then I'd find happiness at least once.

“The pain is worthwhile,” I gaslight.
The blue nile visits me,
not in dreams, but in my ears.
I send myself downtown lights,
and hope someone sees the ones and zeros.