16-11-09
Oh, “how time flies” and I search
for the window in desperation,
Where did it all go, I wonder as I
rush around the room, banging all the walls
trying to find the window I know
got covered up for my own good.

The window, the weapon,
The paper, my plan in the lines
of a little diagram of a clock
with little angel wings jumping out
the open window, with me on the ledge
and without my wings, I…

Oh, “how time heals wounds” in
my case it doesn’t at all, it used
to at least cover up the physical
scars but now they’ve been etched too deep
trying to find that biological clock to
tell me when all of this ends.

The window, the weapon,
The paper, my plan in the lines
of a little diagram of a clock
with little angel wings jumping out
the open window, with me on the ledge
and without my wings, I…

I, telling myself not to look down,
Place my toes just over the edge,
And hold the frame to keep myself still,
But I’m still swaying in the wind and
anticipation. I cast my face towards
the stars. I cast one last look around
the room I destroyed just trying to find…

The window, the weapon,
The paper, my plan in the lines
of a little diagram of a clock
with little angel wings jumping out
the open window, with me on the ledge
and without my wings, I…

I jump, pretending I think
I can fly.