The Ticket

Wake up to find yourself leaving. It’s a weird feeling

Open your eyes, and see trees passing you bye.

Open your mouth to yawn, and words pour out like sunlight at dawn


Walk down the stairs to your kitchen and see valleys miles deep.

Open the fridge, and fall over from hurricane winds

Press start on your microwave and watch a volcano erupt


There isn’t any way to live this life without dreaming of another. My every move reflects a desire for a different move.

Every tree I see reminds me of a picture of a bark i’ve never felt

I have a passion and a drive

I have inspiration, I have motivation, I have determination, all currently overwhelmed by congestion and thus confusion.

Different colors are molding into a blur of a fleshy tone, and different noises weaving into the sound of leaves rustling next to a waterfall.


Everything is becoming one thing, and that one thing is a thousand things

I’m losing track, I’ve lost count.


The ticket is still upstairs

It’s in my coat pocket

It’s in his hand

It’s in the machine

It’s now a seat assignment

It’s a receipt

It’s proof.

It’s my birthright.




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