a leaf in heat
It’s suffocating up here, really. Too many breaths I’ve taken full of rotten dust.
My breakfast tastes of alien excrement and dinner moldy avocados.
Answer me this, hermano? Why me? Why am I the one assuming such a burden?
Morning, dawn and dusk and night, all I see are charcoal clouds.
The others don’t seem to mind as much, yet I am tortured here, dangling by a little stem, while my older cousins drift away; motivated by nothing, it seems, but moving on.
If it were me who bore those roots below, I’d jump into the river.
Yeah, get me and mines a spot down stream, reroot somehow, grow some apples, maybe make some apple cider.
But it isn’t up to me, apparently. I’m just a le . . . le . . . snap!
What was that? It’s happening! The ancient wiggle wiggle! Detachment.
Freedom! Ffffffffffffff
