I wrap myself in chilled morning air
to breathe in the blue fading sky and learn to fly
is what I sigh
Oh begin here where I end and
suck in the wind to expel this soft cry
and why?

There are ghosts behind my eyes
Longing to be alive
Words are caught somewhere in-between speaking And thinking
Breathing for a touch of life
To be living

Giving in to the null
the void that seems to suck all infinitely inward
and there it remains
sustaining me if I give in
to the downward pull and plunge
into the absence of substance

Let’s cut this time woven fabric of life
Into little pieces
Stitching it together in no particular pattern
Until we find something suitable to a whim

This is the discourse of discontent
Wrapped in pretty little -isms
we swallow much easier
But I won’t hold on
Longer if its all down from here on
Where to go?