High

You know when you are up so high Watching the clouds mingle with sunset Sitting with two lovebirds defiant of age Constantly listening to the tantrums of a toddler A familiar noise But closing my ears to all that because experience has taught me well how to ignore Hungrily waiting for the meal Guilty of throwing a quarter-full bottle of expensive water Out of fear, out of lack of knowledge Guilty of judging the parents of the toddler Look at me, shame on me Even entertainment that sits directly infront of me cannot quench my unknown thirst And the constant turbulence only ignites so many last prayers from me Even the tightly worn sitbelt cannot save Am guilty to say that midway through my fears and prayers, I started writting my obituary. ... And now as I write this, already tipsy from some very red wine, I listen to Beethoven How did I even get here? Waiting to disappear in some sweet slumber Looking forward to drool all the saliva I can