I know you can't trust me.

Well, I'm just going to come out and say it, I want to ask these guys if they're talking about me.  I wander around...so timelessly, doing nothing but what I want, and—he's yawning, his arms stretched into the giddiest part of his lethargy, I wonder if he wants me to hold his hand; their words materialized at the right moments in between the sounds—the sounds of that rap music—my head would fill their air; they're the silent keys in the tone of my dreams, evoking that moment of nostalgia you can't remember you even met, before it got jaded like deja vu—what it felt to discipher life, as nothing but air, figments, magic, the dignified calm of delusional thinking, everything you could just brush off, like the sound of this black boy's cloudy melody, leaving you before the air.  Clouds they don't make it—they hand it to you, but there it was

after a dream, you hesitate

I sat behind them, hovering

with cautious glee, i tried to fall into their space,

my feet would slide off the stool