Little Bird Poetry

Inky deep pools Clinging to my arms Legs Warmly embracing my chest So comfortable My eyes Glazed in the grey So nice To float In, out, amongst the grey Becoming one with nothing As it all slips away

The night wind cut through the blue fabric Slicing my face  My eyes My neck The city lights blur by Building tops to high heaven I feel it Such things never last The pavement rumbles As if the sky had opened Lightening crackles As I fell through the glass Cold metal pressing Between amber pools Tears slide down Crystal droplets  Embracing asphalt Click The last sight A woman wrapped in fear Cemented in pain Not ready to let me live

My eyes are met with sights of familiar roads Passing country fields Dotted by roaming cows Sky so clear  I imagine it may shatter  My hands A simple construct of flesh and bone Bearing ink, scars, skin Whose are they Suspended between wake and sleep My mind flutters  Barely contained within human confines Where have I gone The shell stretched Loose Begging in silence  To be released Who am I The thoughts darting  Racing for the finish Am I but a figment of mind Or an unwanted guest in place of another The sun is so warm Wind catching hints of hay and the distant call of the birds I only have two more hours to go