messed up, fucked up, dizzied up
sane—or is it.
a paradox of sorts-maybe not. It’s confused.
Logic- a reasoning of dreams.
Turning, looking, never stopping, always running-where?
—somewhere, nowhere, anywhere.
i fall.
who will catch me, or do I catch myself.
we reason for no reason, we distrust our trust.
nothing makes sense.
The bird whispers. the leaves fall, the seasons change. and we stand
still–or do we?…
circles running wild around us, colours black and blue. We are red with
love and green with greed.
and
nothing in between.
Black–all or nothing.
the bird whispers,
it’s ok.
fly.
fly away.
