Tangerines

I long to be free.
I long to devour the night with shadowy footsteps and a song in my heart.
I long to peel oranges with stubby fingernails and chemical covered hands.
I long to wear my hair in numerous braids until they themselves become restless and untangle without force.
I long to be bald;
To lose my self-image.
I long to stand naked in a doorway as warm blues notes drift through my ears, and the eager cries of Mischief echo down the hall.
I long to make eyes at death, and let nature take its course.
I long to lay on sweet green grass and dissolve into the Earth.
I long to write until my hands are numb and purple, and my eyelids grow heavy from exhaustion.

I long to be One.