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On an airplane from Birmingham to Salt Lake City, after Christmas with family
(
idea
)
by
Wuukiee
Sat Jan 06 2001 at 22:49:20
My
love
,
i speed to you
on borrowed
wings
...
for my kind does not fly,
but
crawls
and
creeps
and
slinks
,
silent in the night
.
i need... i want... i love...
and
soon
again, i *have*.
It's
funny
, really.
weeks
,
months
,
seasons
,
days
,
do not
hurt
this much.
Somehow, those hurt the
lesser
,
far less than these
brief
hours
and mere
minutes
.
i know it's only
time
,
a thing
irrelavent
in our world,
as we hold the power of
true
forever
.
But still i
sit
and
wait
and
hurt
,
pouring out
poor verse
upon
creamy
pages,
to quell my *need* for NOW!
i sit and
twitch
and squirm and shift...
cats
aren't made for
sitting still
!
nor for
confinement
such as this,
as
i am trapped in my winged cage
.
Wings
are
freedom
,
joy
,
escape
, are they not?
So why are they now my
captors
,
deep confinement and oppression,
they
taunt
and
drive me mad
.
i
read
in fits, my words, and words
*worth* reading, both. read, and
shift, and
wait
.
To wait is the most unedurable
agony imaginable.
My
cage
hurts my
body
;
my
watch
hurts my
soul
.
So close
i sometimes think
i can
taste
you for a
stolen moment
.
but when i stop to
savor
,
the stale recycled air
is all
that passes through my
lips
.
The
space
, and the
silence
, and the
seconds
,
drive me mad.
i need
release
in your arms
but cannot have that yet,
so instead i
seek
the
poor substitute
of
ink
as my
balm
.
It's not working
. Nothing is.
Each moment stretches to
eternity
,
as my fingers spit cliches
seemingly stuck in time.
The
pen
continues its
journey
onward,
the same trip the seconds
stubbornly
refuse
to make.
i need to feel your
arms
your
cheek
your
lips
.
i need to feel the
delightful
cool smoothness
of the
stone
that my
finger
has missed
since
someone else's religion
destroyed
it before.
My fingers,
unaccustomed
to this
craft
,
now
groan
as all else does,
so i return again
to my
silence
and my
stillness
and the
seconds
and my
waiting
.
printable version
chaos
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
I am not fool enough to wish for wings
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Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons
waiting
Billy Joel
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