firmamentoverload

[firmamentoverload]

[firmamentoverload]

because the haze will not go away

i begin to inhale it till it feels sticky black in my lungs

i know a losing fight when i see one

and i am a petty thing with pretty dreams that

i would rather blow smoke around then

do anything about

another lighter runs out

another baggie down to crumbs

another paycheck disappears into nothing

everything is gray

my chest throbs and my throat burns

but i will keep breathing in

because the haze will not go away

[firmamentoverload]

[firmamentoverload]

a context outside of my own,

unfathomable.

even the stars are white florets

burning about,

the sun a halo behind my hand,

God: the mail lady who hides my

packages from the rain.

[firmamentoverload]

the stars hither and haste, only connected by time and space,

i remember a night at the lake - the big dipper scooping

the water in front of me, pouring, pouring,

into a memory i bring up now,

into the present

[firmamentoverload]

there is something gnawing / aching within me something / eating me from the inside out / i can’t breathe enough can’t / calm it as it rises in my throat / i name every sight and sound / in the world but i’m still afraid.

[firmamentoverload]

I have not felt the sunlight and its constant shadowy embrace ripple off the leaves in - I have not felt the heavens as anything but a burden since - the wind today, it sings. I forgot - there is a scar on my knee. It has not hurt for a long while now.