God, help us all
                     *When we fall

If we fall, there's
                    No catching
                              
*Ourselves..

There are some people who drape themselves across others
like rugs,
who beg for physical affection
like a dog waiting to have its belly scratched,
who hook pinkies and elbows and knees
with their best friend from childhood while huddled under blankets
in the middle of the night.
                  I am not one of these people.
I sit on the arms of couches,
feet turned away from the pile of mismatched body parts
that occupies the cushions.
                  I am not used to being touched gently.
But something about you
makes me crave contact.
     Hand to hand
             Hip to hip
                     It doesn’t matter.
All my life I have been balancing on the edge of
fear and desire
in a world without all of my senses,
and I think
      one touch from you
              a brush, a spark
                       would send me falling.
No, not falling.
Flying.

Falling
This notion of the ground slipping away
Circumstances make people become-
Different
Hardens them somehow
Emotion takes its toll,
Wears you out,
Tires you
If you hurt long enough-
It’s easier to be hollow
Trust me
Falling
When you can’t remember which way is up-
Things like being more
Or is it less?
Of, well anything
Don’t seem to matter
Solid ground
Like cold, wet, cement after the rain
Something real to latch onto
To stop the dizzying spiral
Something
Someone
To ground you
Remind you who you are
To bring you back
From the dead
Or is it ******?
Knowing the breadcrumbs are there
To lead me back
Is how I know
I’ll survive the fall

stranded on telephone lines
holding on deeply to conversions.
but i'm falling down,

suspended in air
i'm clinging to words
light and untouched
as they surge from
home
to
home

As it turns out,
there is more to falling
than just the fall.

There is, for example,
the thought.
The, "what the hell" kick of
adrenaline that keeps your
engines running.
The, "make it stop" sort of
desperation that sends you
somewhere beautifully
terrible.
The thoughtlessness of
being pushed that is somehow so utterly
unforgivable but still exhilarating.

There is the actual falling.
S
t
r
a
i
g
h
t
d
o
w
n
or sometimes
s
  l
    o
       p
         i
           n
             g
and even sometimes
f l a t  o n  t h e  g r o u n d.

There is the flight.
w                                                         d
       i                                              a
             n                                 e
                  g                       r
                       s              p
                               S
like a bird's and waiting for
the air to lift you
up so your feet don't touch
the soil.

The darkest part of flight is
landing.
It can be as peaceful as
the baby being
d
r
o
p
p
e
d
from the stork's
beak but it can also be
painful and
sudden and
harsh. But the main thing about hitting the ground is
your fall is over and
who wants happiness to
end?