Fly, fly, slip away through the steel and concrete, through the frowning doors. Fly through the night over sleepers on still swings, through indigo shadow and dreaming streets. Fly from the binding to the wide-open lands, deep and secure in long cold glory. Fly from the pain from the endless inquisition, from the marionette strings of a staggering dance. Fly from home from walls wet with memory, from the dirge and desire of bright bloody day. Fly from your body numbered and nothing, fast through the flesh like the arc of an arrow. Fly from us. Waste no more breath here. We love you a prisoner in our busy bones.
