if i try and think about it from your perspective; all that i want to be, all that i am vanishes; becoming a void. for two wane-waxing moons, I've dreamt up such strange ways.
first i'm a bird.
then famous for doing something impulsively absurd.
then water pours through my ceiling, and walls.
cracking open the bedroom and flooding the halls.
i wake up, only to speculate on what drug i could be on.
is it the alignment in the stars?
or the tilt of the earth that's got me spinning around
wanting the answer to this that and more