contagion
I’m running
to where I’ve no idea
all you can see is the back of me
an obscuration of my former self
where did the world go
seems I’m running in and out
of staged impressions
grass really not grass
but painted concrete
the sky but a watercolor
painted by a pathetic god
listen here
I keep repeating to myself
but there is nothing left to hear
besides the occasional trill
of a solitary bird
attempting to be my friend
all we have is time
my newfound inspiration tells me
flying faster than ever
as I myself
continue to pick up speed
pretending I’m finally lifting off
march two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Fabulous write, my friend.
thank you, melanie xo