I am no better than a speck of dust on autumn leaves
in a dirty pile on grey forgotten middle of nowhere.
I am no better than a drop of water in a rig of oil
fiddling because I want to make a stir.
Can I shoot myself in a leg to cripple what I have never achieved?
Can I live with a silenced adjustment to myself?
I am now a better human!
Blindly spray faux spit: I pray till I believe.
I adjusted myself, I’ll adapt as an autumn leaf,
Dreaming of a flight to the sun as cathartic redemption.
I have done all to earn my place
On the first class seat, may the sun be my eternal hell.