Foreign Languages and Stolen Bicycles;

Ribosomes. Chromosomes. Nucleosomes.
A language foreign to me.
Text books large enough to swallow me whole.
Not unless you know the secrets.
Secrets to unlock the hidden language.

In a hole in the ground,
I leave my identity outside with my muddy shoes.
My face hidden, and my soul and secrets too,
My protection is the mask I wear outside.
A mask of relentless uncaring,
Without promise or faith.

Will you save me from this dark despair?
Because right now, the only one I can turn to is PCR.
And it's just not helpful.

I wish my name was Celestine,
Because I would be buried in the snow, just waiting for Ernest.
Would you save me? Or leave me to be soaked through, beneath the apple tree?
Rotten to the core, I know the truth.

You came by on a stolen bicycle, and made me smile.
Because Narnie sat in front of Webb. And Tate chose rock, so Lily died.
Because Fitz rode by, and Jude trampled the poppies.
But when they all came back together, it was for the house made of gopher wood.
Like Noah's ark, by the river.
A home for them, and their families.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.