I felt my hipbones digging into the mildly soft bed
and started thinking of writing
and then reading the writing
and then regretting
I am an open and shut case of disaster
a myriad of ineligible words, half-told stories, soft-spoken declarations
I thought we were going somewhere
my plane, now weighted down with extra baggage, was cruising along above the treeline
though not so high, it was sweet air that rushed around us
dips into the dark forest started, and I tried to pull up, again and again it happened...
we finally crashed
the pieces are everywhere
I can't even find some
there's rotting flesh all over the woods, entrails hanging from the branches, blood spattered on the fallen leaves
the bones, the bones are dry and brittle, cracking, I don't know if I can rebuild it this time
Perhaps I'd best use some manmade materials
circle the joints with copper wires
find steel plates to reinforce the wings
maybe a control or two at the front to help me with the steering
and to avoid future mishaps and fatal crashes
