slouch down in my puke-orange chair and sigh
the air is full of nerves and human cells
beside me sits some awkward girl who I
fell half in love with in the airport lounge
captain says no smoking if we
crash try not to die
flying some preposterous
amount of meters high
the lavatory has smoke alarms and
lukewarm water and i can see the
clouds outside stretched out to nowhere
ribbed and textured easily
and so on:
so aimless for so long i think i might have lost my way
its far too late to talk about tomorrow
these are things i feel, and things i think, and try to say
still waiting for the morning, i'm still waiting for today