Poem Number 19497

i only have a few seconds, before reality sets in

The way they look at me, at restaurants, when I go to eat
is as though in unfond disbelief, applied on rays of common dust.
Asking random women if they'd like to watch my feathery mastication
has always only led to disasters more horrible than the 'wars' of humans.

I am seen as an amphibian, on a pond, upon a leaf.
Things are always tadpole in the beginning, swimming about happily,
content about being applied well amongst the greenery.
Try as I did, I never quite got the ecosystem well done.

They think I am a frog. I am - of course - because of the legs.
"I don't want to talk to anybody else, just you," I let her know
when the distances were sprinkling seasons so cheap as my words.
She told me to go and join LifeRing, seasonally.

"How do you see the other people, if you never even see anyone but yourself?"
This is why I desire death. I've seen planets aligned so well amongst a sun,
deep space photography, and yes, it is more romantic to speak of auras,
but why are they claiming I can perform that kind of magic?
(Kids, don't try this at home).

Imagine if I woke up to be you. All that capacity for vision,
brilliant light and ambience, then to end up with my face in your oculars.
I wouldn't want to be that person. I would rather be processed like deer meat.

When the seven galaxies dance, and the twelve hearts provide a semblance of
gait, in this very beautiful existence, I'll know when to stop and gaze.
I'll know it's ok to let go, I'll know I just need to 'be there' with you.
I want to be there so much, so desperately.

Who am I kidding? They entered according to pattern 97 today, which means I am to remain anonymous and complimentary to the cabin. I will follow my
emulated path through the 'trade system', instead of actually sitting on
some wooden planks and fishing. The trade isn't really that important, but
sitting, on wooden planks, is.

Ass needs some firmament. End on cheap note. -fr0