gravitational pull & crooked axis

i'm not doing so well

like i'm tripping down a tunnel
with no way of seeing
no comprehension 5 feet in front of me

like something that came out
when the light went home

i lie
a lot

say that i'm fine, 
smile as my teeth scrape at the inside of my mouth

speak words like an automaton
set responses
choose option a, b, or c 

because sometimes 
my beloved words are just 
syllables strung along
like a decaying line of popcorn on twine

and my head spins, 
hands clawing at my arms, 
trying to center myself 
in a world that won't stop moving. 

The End

3 comments about this poem Feed