At times it’s like this
With my hands cupped
beneath a single cloud
Assembled by coincidence
I rather them wet
than empty
At times it’s like this
With my wings folded
below the deliberate trees
Down here,
I can still catch bugs
I can still do something
At times it’s like this
With my eyes sunk
and the music gone
and no good answer
to everyone’s worry.
“Will you be okay?”
“Will you be okay?”
“Will you be okay?”
At times it’s like this
Split between the grass
and the open sky
as a bridge for bugs to pass
If skin could really crawl
I would be in China
or the middle of the ocean
or whatever lies between
At times it was like this
In a black restaurant
illuminated by fools gold
and enough heat to end time
But I played some part
in all of it.