If you would say to me
that this was a disease
that I would be hooked easily
than I would believe you
through and through
all these dreams float up like a million scattered particles
into the atmosphere
and they break apart like nothing
and yet we set our feet upon the summit of these hills
and play on these balance beams
We gamble until we draw blood, on a daily basis
we requested for responses but only hear static
I gave myself over
over and over
until I felt ran over
like road kill
So I lifted these prayers up
and placed them back on their shelves
and I lifted them up like parachutes
and placed them back down to the ground
am I so desperate?
am I a fool?
to conceive of the inconceivable
to give birth to something true?
Have I bitten off more than I could handle?
being a revolving door
people pushing through, entering
and then spinning out


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