one hundred thousand airoplanes
came crashing through my brain today
crammed downed a narrow passage
still dripping wet with nasal spray
sopping wet and breathing easy
out stepped one hundred thousand pilots
wondered where the grass had gone
and why the walls were violet
why there were walls at all
and not an aging strip of pavement
why there sinuses were clearer
and where all the open skies went
airoplanes and pilots broke that chain
that I’d left hanging in the balance
loaded up what thoughts were left
and hauled them off to freelance
took my mind out among the clouds
sold my soul to the highest bidder
cast my thoughts among the stars
and left me darkness to consider
and when i went to look for tools
with which this nothing to unwind
i found them tangled in a mess of planes
the fault of pilots quite unkind
so cross legged on the floor i sit
and play amongst the pieces
of a mind that i had left defenseless
biding time till this life ceases
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