Monday, March 23, 2015

 
i swallow sand bags
each morning with coffee, tiny white blocks of pressed
dopamine, mined like gold from
healthy brains. i swallow bricks and steel, swallow
heavy things to keep me
weighed down to the world.
 
i have a tendency to float into the sky
if my
ankles aren't tied down like
an air balloon or elephant or carrier pigeon or
north pole magnet being dragged
down south.
always fighting the reverse of gravity,
the pull of
angels or heaven or atmospheric burning gas, always
leaving, always swallowing sand bags and
pretending that i do not miss
the clouds
sometimes

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