every drop of air is my home
so why can't i breathe
drowning in light
i am a moth waiting for Easter
has she come, i wonder
i have eaten a museum
and it's dripping down my mouth as i stare at your fairy toes
where are they now
whose picture is it
stocked in the back of my mind like a book
amusing but not interesting
once i was caught in the fire
and i cannot fly since then
i was caught in the fire when i believed in water
now, tired and scorched,
i reckon it's my eyes, they're too glassy
i should probably resurrect somewhere
would you turn the lights off, please, I'm drowning
and there's no safe path to follow in the dark
my home is too thick to be cut
with my crumbling wings
funny that
i think someone waved at me
and ran away
there'a a glimpse of red and i've hit my head on the wall
trying to fly through myself like it's Easter
has she come
i should probably shake the past off my dusty hair
brace my solitude and drink it
summer is fading and so must I
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