lilting. my world is tilting overward & back. I've been folding myself, twisting & turning my skin; packing me away, as organized as always. I label everything I see & document it elsewhere, then put the note in the bottle, seal it, select a spot on the wine rack. don't give me uppers; you know I'm not that kinda girl. you know I like to sink, not drift with the clouds. You know that when I feel I've died, I just want to find myself a nice place to rest my bones. preferably quicksand, or a pile of freshly overturned dirt; give me anything to help me bury myself alive. I'm just the only person I can trust to lay me down soft.