gritty and hard-hitting,
the words birthed by
others' tongues seem to me
to be cemented in harsh reality.
how i want to be buried in the sidewalk too
the wings of my words flutter still
unpinned. they are
clouds that scuff across a sky,
indefinable save for their cloudness.
into that ocean I float
away, like a balloon filled with
too much helium
and set loose from the clinging grip
of a child's chubby fist.
and like a balloon,
my deflation is inevitable
but i'll hold onto
that intoxicating helium reality
for just a moment longer