delinquint disembodied voices drift up six stories from the park below this building, an infallible blue sky pockmarked with structures, planes suspended in mid-air come centimeters from crashing, my perception squewed from that black-magic air I breathe, watch the sky so intensely that hallucinatory fireworks dance in silver skin all exploding across the sky
up on the roof in Union Square, wishing I was elsewhere, and although not exactly sure where else I'd rather be, just wishing I could away myself, remove my entire identity for just five minutes and become another person who doesn't have to think tormenting thoughts all the time, but it's alright, because the sky is so blue today, and I just smoke a cig and look at blue, and lounge in the sun
where do you want to run?
Adding your comment: