Some people run on beef.
I run on spider silk.
Weaving my way through furrowed fields.
Surfing in cyclones,
Circulating energy,
Dreaming of freedom.

Dying every moment so that I may live more fully.
Eclipsing earthworms with the utmost respect.
Chaining my limitations to a railroad track and
Obliterating them with atomic force.

I am casual
I am alien
I scoff at convention
and tear holes in the fabric of my reality.

I don’t know where I’m going
I do know where I’m not going.
and for the moment
that’s enough.