
All the world’s a stage:
parks, rivers, corporations;
you and I, workers.

All the world’s a stage:
parks, rivers, corporations;
you and I, workers.

Flying at sunset
I sleep amongst the heavens—
a pillow of clouds.

I’m diving head first,
ground rises up to meet me—
we land; nightmare ends.

Buzzing airport lights;
seeking a different high,
solo traveller.

Tiny blobs of life
coloured green, outside the lines,
trees keep us nourished.