I'm losing my sense of self,
But gaining a sense of confidence
In my ability to accept the fear

It washes over me, suddenly
It falls on me like a blanket, full of sand,
Made of the concrete and asphalt
that touch my face,
fragile bones
breaking
as they hit the ground

I savor the awareness
and clarity of my perspective,
No longer fearing
Emptiness
As I spill onto the sidewalk

I can’t trust my mind...

So I throw myself down the stairs

Standing in front of the sink
My own eyes stared back at me
The mirror was *****, and through the flecks
I saw my self

Where was this beauty?
Sometimes I glimpsed it in dreams,
A stranger with familiar qualities
That I'm ashamed to call my own

But the time keeps getting away,
so I chase and I chase and I chase
Something beyond the sky, beyond the earth,
Beyond what my fingers can grasp at

(These tips get blistered, calloused,
Yet where does my mind hide?)

I’m perpetually fighting
the constant pressure
to capture
the present moment
(How much is mine to keep?)
When all I want is to exist within it,
and let it pass,
as quickly as I realized it was there,
and as briefly as it remained

I can only bathe in it
in the metaphorical sense,
letting these little droplets of time
soak into my skin
with a soft, rose petal fragrance,
the scent of renewal
masking an ever-present fear
that fills these soap bubbles, each neat little "pop"
destroying my rainbowed reflection
stretched across their filmy surfaces

I realize I am only partially attached
to the drain plug of the bathtub...

But that thought escapes me as well,
moving with the water now swirling down the pipes,
***** from my skin and tears
and lost hairs and forgotten dreams,
carrying every particle of my former self
to some unknown grave

So I leave my bones, carelessly, in this empty ceramic shell
and imagine the day that I was born

I feel restless
unstable, unsure;
but surely nearing
some tipping point
that the speed of the top,
wobbling wildly,
prevents me from seeing

[I am blind]

Equilibrium has passed me by;
can I capture it once more?

(a lack of movement
is also a form of balance)

The weight of uncertainty
is enough to knock me over;
Now, lying beneath the trees,
I question all that I am