Thursday, July 5, 2012

carbon dioxide


Is living always by accident? 
The air is changed when we give it back, is that fair? 
We crawl as though we fly- could it be such a mystery that we imagine ourselves as winged creatures, that crawl through muck as clouds or waves of stars? That which is unreachable draws my wonder the most, taking my suitcase with extra pairs of Realistic inside. “But theres nowhere to go, don’t you see?” I tell my Traveler, “Whatever the sun touches is glue to what we are.” 
Of course, there are those who have come and gone but they never do return, maybe they could bus back to this somewhere if they pleased, but like the new where more. The one who did come back, I am told to give him my gratitude. In time but now not, I never shook his hand. 

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