Untitled #6

I'm walking between the raindrops,
as they fall from the sky.

I am untouched,
purely theoretical,
a figment of my own imagination.

I am riding smoke and prayers,
through holes in the sky,
I am molding wishes from human clay,
and whetting it with the tears of time.

I am the song of my forebearers,
piercing the hearts of my decendants,
blowing kisses at the moon,
and dancing on pinheads.

I am swimming in the desert,
and drowning in my thoughts,
folding paper cranes,
from the money I'll never make,
and laughing all the time.

I am the last of the natural born losers,
and the king of my own heart,
turning carwheels at my own funeral,
unslowing, unwinding, and unregretting
my way into oblivion.


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