Call me "Dora", and know that I'm only trying to prove that I am like paper. You say that it's summer and you'd like to find God - well, I've gone off looking. I can see Him, mounted on a shadow, spread-eagled with several stars. I can't bring myself to consume another source, and I've nothing left to give. I envy the tree, where everything is balanced. The maintenance of my human is exhausting, I'm feeling greedy. I'm making a heavy world, a second heavier - I can't leave the ground. I want to float, with a sign that says, "I Told You I Could". But don't be mistaken. I've always loved these things. I've always loved the four walls that held you in. You're never at more than one place at one time. You'd sit with me. It was understood. It all seemed so simple. Too simple. It should be more of a challenge: accepting, exchanging, standing. I've come to realize that I'll never be able to appreciate the jolts inside of me. I never asked for a mind of my own. I never wanted to be sliced from infinity. Abscisio infiniti, it never made sense to me. So allow them room to poke at me. Let them study the way I ripped. It's wise to chart these sorts of things. I wanted to seduce the Martian, visit the red planet and roll in the dirt. I wanted to find the petrified ocean and stomp on its surface. I could write about it, but I'd rather rest a while. I'll write when I'm older and understand. With your time, please save the Ivory-billed Woodpecker. Please respect the birds who sing for you. They keep coming. They never stop. For as long as you'll listen, they'll always be singing. With my time, I'll try and get rid of this headache.
I'm learning their names, at a slow pace. I'll continue learning.
I can rejoice! I can finally put my thoughts to rest and listen, forever.
I'll yawn and stretch.
No more questions.