Oh, would that I were a flock of blackbirds, the next iteration of the dinosaur wheeling in the sky in unknowable formation, instead of a pseudo-intellectual kid who has to decide in which city she wants to spend the next x number of years.

Oh, would that I were the cloud of steam rising from a power plant, lit from below and within by yellow mercury lights, instead of a sentient being that can’t see itself from the outside.

Oh, would that I were the cancer and the cure, invisible and paradoxical, instead of just paradoxical and left here to try to resolve it all.

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