Flying Birds

Woke up sweaty and a strong urge for a taste of nirvana. The door to my room was open. Curious. A stale taste in my mouth of some kind of chemical. Bruised arms with cuts on my feet. Feeling a strong drive to move, to run, but I am surrounded by concrete.

Plunging into the blue. Going faster and faster. This one is for the birds. Oh the birds. Birds birds birds. You take the seeds from me. I watch you while you eat! How many are in your flock, oh birds birds birds birds birds.


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