a breath of saturday morning air, slow down.
blue eyes open a little. blue walls, blue sky, blue shirt,
and a yellow sun.
it's late.
cold wood on hot feet.
float down the stairs quietly -
there are people sleeping like we used to sleep.
good day, copilot. it's time to warm our wings and take off. mountains wait for us out west up north away from here, real mountains we can climb and scale, mountains made out of rock instead of medicine, with a view at the top instead of guilty nights alone in the bedroom. tie your boots, copilot, it's time to fly. it's time to get out of here. it's time to finally feel that beautiful blue saturday morning sun on our backs instead of seeing it through dirty glass like we've been doing for weeks. are you ready, copilot?
are you ready to get away?
are you awake?
do you want to be?
