The world tilts slightly
I can feel it in my toes
Like a deciduous tree in the fall.
Red, orange and yellow leaves,
But instead of leaves that are falling
It’s like a ticking time bomb strapped to the bottom of my chair
Or the Grim Reaper with his omnipotent like scythe.
And the closer I come to understanding
The more it feels like the ground is the roof
And the sun is the moon.
Beautiful and inviting on a clear summer night.
But chilling and unknown in the evanescent fog of early morning.
The world tilts even more slightly now,
And I can see that it’s trying to spill me onto the frozen floor.
Her tears tell me more than any words,
While her clenched hands and abstemious demeanor on life,
Throw tears into my already overflowing irises.
Sure, it could have happened but did it happen?
Were the words and letters just vortex like lies of deceit.
Because the idea of it happening is like an ice cold shock of water square in the face,
Or a dream where you’re climbing up a precipitous mountain,
While attached to heavy chains that are trying to pull you down.
The world tips almost upside down now,
and as I close my eyes to brace myself for the long and lonely fall,
I stay where I am.
On the floor with the heavy force of gravity weighing down on my organs,
But this is a new feeling not just the world tipping slightly.
It’s as if the whole universe is twisting and turning,
Choking and clawing as it all clicks into a horribly clear mess.
Gender:
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