The sky isn't gray, it's colourless

While I drag myself across the tarmac ground

Dirty bent fingers thin and long

Skin of my limp face scraped torn and gone

Figures, like humans and like trees

Pitch black, stand around talking to each other

Wordless words

Those two, over there, man and woman

I pull myself along to them, mad

And I clutch them, begging

Tell me to stay, tell me to go,

Tell me if you hate me, if you know

And when unmoved they remain

I puncture my finger into the skin of her ankle

And draw the plunger back

And she is no longer standing, but laid out on the ground

Her branches falling off and her bark turning pale

I puncture that finger into my wrist

And explode

With running around and telling people jokes, for a little while

Little while is not enough, and I fall back onto the ground

Right where I started, next to the white wilted lady

And the man, still standing, proud

Talking to the air as if someone were there

The ground begins to vibrate, weakly but for sure

And the lady, fallen, with her ear pressed up against the ground

Begins to hear a song

And I know

For weaks

For weeks

That I will need more