Blue

This city is a bird
It whispers in my ear “fly,”
Through the razor cold wind
Over the expanse of black monolith skyscrapers
Past acrid smoky meat factories
Fly and let the flutter of feather fold over everything
Suck the bitter mist of a million people through your lips
But sadly, I can’t fly. The blue clouds could cut me.
I choose not to fly, in favor of other commands
We all cut ourselves because we’re bleeding
Sometimes, its just nothing
The cobalt metropolis still calls me
Sky is just another flat ground to walk on
So, I sprout wings and I fly – to silence it.
You’ve finally done it, you’re finally above this.
“But don’ you know all flights lead to falls?”
The tips of black monolith skyscrapers scream “Down with you!
Step down!.” And I would if I could get any lower.
They are jealous because I am higher
I slip past this city with my arms at straight angles
I will not land. I will not step down. I am a bad dancer.
As azure sky splits open and the white light pushes my angled body downward.
The city’s whispers come back to me
I fall.


This entry was posted by Dylan October 28th, 1997 and is tagged: , . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.



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Dylan

Pleased to meet you! I'm Dylan Kinnett, your friendly neighborhood writer.