• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 05
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it’s not the hair
it’s the faraway look
the gaze that speaks of dreams
of stuff lost
deep waters and dark knowings
belie the sunshine
I would come to you if I could
I would have always come
so casually he holds me
as if he’s not a jailer
I don’t sing his tune
or dance his steps
it’s all about dignity
and I can do that
I know          I know
don’t think I don’t
but I’m holding my head up
won’t give him satisfaction
and one day my time will come
he’ll set me down
he’ll turn his head for just a fraction
just a fraction of a fraction
splitting second split
and I’m off     away
the whole North sky mine
while I fly      circle over him
and shit