Getting down, onto any ground,
arms dead to the side waiting to shake.
Meatiest airplane thrust is wasting
and the failure induces the sting.
Two, Three, Four Rainbows teasing, shimmering,
Lighting the passage on black depths with blue,
but vermilion gets difficult.
Every day I'll mimic the epileptic...badly...
cannot even die for my life, my desire.
The water rises again, pushing the air and
straining bagpipes. When is the sound?
I will succeed eventually.