I’m in the process of building an airplane till it’s stable enough to sit in.

Never never never to fly again.

But still.

Walking past these store windows and I see… I see which type of wings I want to buy.  I wonder how they’d taste the air.

I don’t get to taste the air.  I’ve had the runway.  I lived there for six years.  Should have disabled it.  Jammed gum in the ignition so no key could fit.

I didn’t.  Key went in easy.  The wheels started turning.  Nose pointed straight up and y’all still f***ing dragged me back to this this this SICK EARTH.  I wanted to bring you with me.



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