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In the midts of air

                                                    In the midts of air





It is the air thing that keeps me swinging that keeps me ringing.That keeps me going that keeps me in the midair of it all.That they all seem to be in there with me is the proper thing for them to keep doing.That they all seem to be seemingless is nothing.That they are flying midair is not the hair thing it is the hair thing.That they are flying in there is not me that they are not there is not with me.That they all seem seemingless is forgotten.That they forget them in the midair is now.

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