grounded
up here i can see the sun & the dark clouds
which hang over cypress are a distant memory
200 miles up and my internal pressure
threatens to make
the pink & grey slimy things
wet & slippery
burst through my ears, ripping my
eardrums with
a decisive pop-pop, out of my nose,
like a violent
sneeze gone wrong,
until my eyes
burst, sucked out
into the vastness as i climb
even higher. in the shape
of the north star, i fall
upwards,
consumed.
underneath, i feel small. compressed. the wounds of the world like 15
thousand pounds per square inch in the mariana trench. face up, glassy
eyed, but only darkness and shades of saturated shadow. the words so close
together with a clashing sound it could blot out the entire sun like the
nearly seven miles above me. instead of leaking out, it threatens to rush in
like the memories flooding back. it seems i have found my old treasure chest,
all its contents still locked inside, waiting for a better day to return to the
surface. nevermind. perhaps i should stay here, in the dark, perhaps this
worn and battered box can provide some cold comfort, its sides more rigid than my ribs, its lock more sturdy than my spine.