The plane is a utility

Staying still is fallacy

We live with the energy

–everything is made to see

I stand reckless

With zero inhibition

my deftness

–their operation

incisions into the sky

are my surgeries

(that aviation is busy)

lying about injections

Saying he is an alien

But there is no throwing mechanism

To send them across space yet

So I stand on top of my plane

I look to the sky.

Hoping to never die

But the music makes me cry

And the clouds make me high