On days I'm tired of running
I rest under the trees my great great grand father had planted
The branches have grown strong and wide
Casting a huge shadow of comfort
When restlessness sets in
my body is numb
But my ears are filled with a constant buzz
I run after the buzz and take a leap
Dressing myself in nomadic clothes
Shedding eccentricities and
previous identities like aged skin
If I ever become whole
I will brood over the lightness with which this neck carries
this heavy head
Or measure the negative spaces between the arch of my back and the
softest sheets
Because the only way to feel complete is to fill voids
And to constantly colour closer and closer toward extending lines
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