Second Confirmation Like white rain like I get cold chills when I think your name like a bruised tongue like crunching the chalky crumbles of my noes like the right path needs a breeze man and I’m confused about what makes it right like so much of that gospel truth is shattered like I’m not sure movement can save like all I can do is fall into his arms like Hot Air Balloon I. A peeping hole surrounded by Japanese newspaper allows me to peek with a focused eye I see my body, shockingly large. II. Sometimes I want to be normal, but mostly I wish freedom didn’t make heads twirl and lips yap. My eye lids impulsively fingered like an Albert Oehlen painting causing mind jam, “Are you in a play, dear?” I am more than anyone, except Bowie. If you’re a Rockstar you’re allowed to wear face paint. III. Orange blossoms cleanse the pallet of degeneration. IV. Shoot your arrow arms. Rise ‘cause you’re filled by fire. Float over water-thoughts. Just becaus...