I wish I were a fucking tree.
I wish I were a merry ghost.
I wish I left no trace of me,
I wish I were a winsome host
I wish I were the catcher in the rye.
I wish children played upon me,
I wish them safe before I die
And yet they never played with me
I saw them through my prison bars
And yet never could I leave.
I sought them through apologetic scars
And yet never could they conceive
I wish I were a fucking tree
So children could climb me;
And it wouldn't hurt so god damn always
So lovers and fighters could rest in my shade
and sleep forevermore
And rest for ever and more
So I could live a hundred half-lives,
which never hurt another soul in a thousand years
I am waiting for the day when my clock runs down
I pray for the ticking to cease
The pulsing stops, so the pulse stops....
the footsteps echo to a close
and I can be an echo
An echo is like a memory
It fades until it is nonsense
I wish I were nonsense, non-sense, no sense.
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