I am not meant to be in an unexplainable place!
Disconnected from the sound of progress, from a tangible human face. 
Do you know what it's like to have a steel windpipe? It is cold
and impractical. 

I berate myself for not knowing the truth, I berate myself 
just to have something to do. This could be because
I read the news but it didn't happen last time; I'm scared of you.

Where do you hide from that which is not at your door?
I want a room with no doors. I want to be a door. I want to 
share something real, I want to run in the topiary.

I don't believe some things, some things that 
could happen if I learned
how to see past this protective fucking shield.
"I believe in health!" I say to the moon.
"I believe in GREENERY!" I yell at the trees.

I've just found out I am a puppet bendy straw 
hollowed out middle with rubber hands. 
I believe in words, I believe in dance.

I've heard there is a recipe for faith--

I'm sure someone, somewhere, is using it very nicely.