amidst gusto-winded weekdays, merriment formed at your core
with the pride-less, uncontrollable mannerisms
of bladders amoung a free-falling men
under frantic flails of limbs
my body hurling downward
the future below, facial expression:
brought to you
by a bird's-eye view of an entire story that's
laced with bull****.
somebody is there, occupying the vacancies between your tepid breaths of smoke.
for your breaths, it's me.
and right before my dead-weight yields
an unappreciated landing
atop rows of teeth, picket fences, and
legitimate free food
i'm playing the part of happiness,
and that is when,
in mid fall, and no matter your species,
you can fly
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