If I Could Fly Away

FLIGHTS OF FANCY

Trains of Thought

The Great Escape- Intensive Journal Writing

If I could fly away right now, what would I be leaving behind?

Chuncks of concrete

rusted metal

gunhumpers, silly boys who don’t wear socks, women who pull their hair back into greasy ponytails, drunken whores and delusional lovers

came

crashing down on streets named after trees that don’t grow here anymore.

Home is where Netflix lives.

 

Murica, Feel The Bern, I don’t see color I see the person

I am fair and honest and true.

Is my phone charged? Does it need to be fed?

Home is where Instagram says it is.

 

Chunks of concrete, rusted metal

crashed to Earth

with a thud

held together by

a sticky web of  silly boys who don’t wear socks,  girls with greasy hair tied back into a ponytails, the drunken whores the  deluded lovers,

the Berners, the Humpers, the starving phones

blended and forced into  embraces by each other

they are

poisoned rain falling from a flat and listless sky

feeding the corpse of a dead world.

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