Lying on the floor
Pretending the ceiling didn’t just fall down
On me
Cause if you were there
I would probably have noticed
The crack
But now it’s empty
Like the egg-formed ball
On me
So if this was surreal
And that other time was reality
I wouldn’t sleep alone
And I’m pretending
The ceiling didn’t fall down
On me
Justify my oddity
Counterbalance this reality
And let me sleep alone
Don’t try to save what’s already lost
When the ceiling falls down
On me
The red bricks
And the eternal sound of rush hour outside
Reminds me that it’s better in here
In this world of subconscious confusion
Where nothing seems to be alright I see you
On me
“Don’t”, I say
Knowing that this will take me where I want to go
But still knowing it won’t
Contemplating the thought of standing up
But there’s blocked, the ceiling is resting
On me
“Strength”, you say
And save me by removing the ceiling
With just one hand
“What is all this about?”
I ask myself, and the poem stops with just one line to be written