jailbreak
Jailbreak the cocoon and you're suddenly a butterfly.
You're ready to breathe.
You've got these things and they're a bit wet but as you shake them
off you discover escape.
You realize you can fly.
And so when you go, drifting towards Our Stella, feeling her warmth
and tingling with the sensation
that you like it, and you soar like Icarus and pompous knowing that
your wings will never melt
because they only burn.
So you look about and your eyes are afire and you can't believe
there's more to the point. You've
been pampered in silk and yet this comfort is a sort of gasping
uncertainty which you have never even
come close to.
You are Plato escaping the cave and so you open your mouth and
breathe, tasting the oxygen and the
products of Prometheus' possession. You inhale like you're going
under water but the truth is you
wouldn't care even if you were.
And when you're stomach drops your panic carries you terrified,
although the wind carries you
reckless. Heights scare you and what used to be the same size as you
is now toy soldiers marching in
toy wars.
So you breathe again. Falling is frightening, but detachment is
beautiful. You drift about watching
what goes on, knowing you're too high to ever go back.
So you enjoy the thin air, swallow up, and order another pint.
d. michael mcnamara
