Sunday, 20 March 2011


Tie balloons around my neck,
I want to hang high above this,
laughing at the insignificance of all my land lying problems,
all these home spun inadequacies, defunct by the last gasp of weightlessness,
this would be a good death.

I want to melt the wax rind that is suffocating me,
winter melting away in brilliant sunlight,
free fall like Icarus, landing in a field or an ocean,
sublime pain, my body will fracture
as I am lost in true rapture.

No comments:

Post a Comment