Annie sang.

thinking tonight about birds and flocks and me and how humbled i am by my family and how even when they are perched precarious and potential energy poised up on a wire still. the flock seems to stick together all full of leaders and followers and fallen from grace-ists mingled and unflappable wings of me and wires binding the ties and my uncommonly good and pungent and pure cane is the love for the ones who took me and set my bones and now and then while wings will heal slowly and time moves mysterious mountains out here somehow still. i thank the force greater than me and the stars and fireflies for nothing else but the flock i share my genetic codes and a home and my bones with now that i am safely through to the other side of the wire tight-rope walk of mine in another lifetime or so it seems now in the nest i remember how i always knew best and now i know all too well how little and crippled my wisdom is out of order on leave or mental holiday please forgive my absence in lieu of my mess and display of spectacular disaster on any given day just turn the radio on and turn it up loud now make sure you've blared the volume beyond the sound barrier somehow and press your ear up to it as you fumble in-between stations and take in the static snow and white noise whirring and screaming and scaring your senses into their shells and making throbbing veins pop and bloat your skull and as you bleed out and pop your eardrums like making air holes for breathing fireflies in jars or baking potatoes and how you should always be sure to puncture the beast before the big feast lest an explosion of pressure cooking is inevitable and regrettable and this and that and potatoes and vacuums like black holes i hope and i hope i hope for your sake too will reach you and float over airwaves like waves rolling in and you know you are in over your head like i was in brooklyn and now it's high noon and high tide and i'm broken and brokedown and bandaged by better members of the food chain than assholes like me, or you, or your a.m. radio could ever claim to be and i hope you spend your nights lying insomnia watching trees from your window cast shadows playing tricks on you like you did to me and static noise and boys and stolen stories i told you about drugs and playtoys left me broken but better off knowing better than to walk the wire the line the truth with foxes deceiving birds right out of their minds and their nests thank god for this flock and flapping and wings that still work and words that still hurt but make sense to me still. fuck you and your view from your dirty windowsill and your games and your pain and your loneliness trappings if you miss me, i'll be the little bird still kept under wraps and if you really insist i will send you a map and a cryptic long list a scavenger hunt where x marks the spot and you mark the worst of my past and all the screaming i did in my sleep and bad dreams and bad things and perverted and selfish and you are too deaf and too blind maybe dumb now to hear all the songs and the lyrics and beauty this little bird has been waiting to sing and bones in wings heal and brooklyn and you just a bad dream now surreal you and your static nonsense noise too take it all with you to hell and i might even bring you a thank you note there for taking me back to the ground where i started out and back to my flock and off the old block which i easily block out now from memory like wine on your tongue and film on your flesh it reminded me of how i was me before you and the please sir, fuck-me-forever-type-of-sex and the rest of our mess. So when you boldly demand that I span the time zones to confess and I use the excuse to slowly undress while I distract you with old tactics and magic and witchcraft, 'til under duress I find your face come back into sight as my eyes roll unbothered back into my slippery thighs tonight I don't care about what you've left me without and longing for truth in the lines, consequences from your shove off the high dive no formal farewell fistbump low five goodbye is too false you and I both know like I hit the roll of an electric slide dice roll ecstasy and control make you and I inevitable unforgettable is too easy to flick from my tongue slowed like all time and space you now own use me up as you used to do and show the darkness that the question was 'Are you..?' and the answer was always a hushed and submissive yes still a mess filled with your ghost panting blessings and painting my insides with your lack of regrets the sticky and primal need still posesses all of my sense until all that is left is our mess and your final word always until I confess and collapse only half-dressed wishing you weren't the absolute worst, but also the unspeakable best.