And again you fall up.
Fall up into your own head.
Your tangled strings of thoughts
Slither and snake around themselves and choke
Themselves out with a pressure twisted
Tighter than boy-scout knots
Ebbing around painful snaps of rubber band nerves
Looping around the tennis ball of your brain
And as you fall your foot snags on the ringed
End of a threading needle and as you kick it deeper
Into your soft red pin cushion mind
You are hanging with your legs pointed up
With your fingers just barely *******
The edge of that whiskey bottle
The needle breaks.
And you fall down into that drink
Dousing your brain with boiling hot liquid
Hoping that your knotted thoughts will
Melt into spaghetti, soft and loose
Barely circling the fork of your brain
And finally unravel the pressure of
Being the only person who falls both ways.