I am building a rocket to slip the bonds of life
because it ends in death.
It is shiny and candyapple red,
riveted in bright brass.
It is fueled with unstable desire
and I am counting down.
Come to the launchpad,
rush up the steps, pull me back,
I will leave this mad design,
and live with you and our cats
in the soft blue night air
that settles over the pines.
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