Sometimes, Dion, I wonder what it would be like to be you. To lay against my mattress and place two tabs on my tongue and float away. I see the art in it, so much so that I want to be inside of the masterpiece. But then I get clarity. I think about how terrifying it must be to take a trip and never come back. And then I want to be you a little less. Always scared, always unsure. It’s no life to live. And everyday I pray that you board the right bus, that you present your ticket, that you find Planet Hollywood.
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i am an old painting
i've matured by dust
i fell behind the cabinet,
i wait from dawn until dusk
(for you to pick me up)
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