And as I pin my bones
deep down inside this chair,
I stretch my legs onto the seas
in hope to find you there.
We shall grow fish scales on our soles
and algae in our hair.
And as I dye my elbows
in bloody corporate red,
I arch my arms onto the skies
my feather-fingers spread.
The wind shall carry our good byes,
on airy star dust threads.
And as I tuck my children
in bedsheets stained with hope,
I cast my thoughts down the abyss
To bargain for some rope.
For what are bones but anchors moored
in dreams kaleidoscopes?
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