The universes' grand practical joke.
A relentless blood blister between
the fingers of space and time.
A bag full of 1 sided die.
oh to BREAK the rules to this game!
To be explorers again,
to be human again.

The stars are always pinpointed
Against their dark blanket of sky -
As constant as the pool of patience
She always finds herself drowning in. Waiting.
The days seem to linger like a long spiraling staircase you thought would end
Fifteen flights ago - But you're sure that when you reach the top and step onto the balcony, you'll be greeted with a stunning vista - and you'll know the strenuous trek was worth it.
But it won't be discernible until every blister is calloused, until every muscle has ached, until every labored breath has been released into the uncaring sky.
Until every second lurches - towards an unforeseen time that seems completely off the watch.
She isn't a patron of time because time is wind-
Wind erodes, disintegrates, deteriorates, and plunders.

There is a photograph of him and her pinned
To a plaster wall that was painted dark blue -
The photo flutters against the pressure of time,
but it is not threatened.
He is constant - a tangible, absolute gravity
That pulled her into his orbit.
In that safe harbor, the wind cannot lash at their hearts
Despite the geographical distance between them.
The infinite Universe pays no homage to time,
But it does respect gravity, orbits, inertia, and
Love.
The forces that keep the stars
from falling
out of the sky.

Grief is not a feeling, but a force.
Like a boulder, I am confident in my place on Earth.
But after several setting suns, I start to feel the weight of time
under thousands of feet of
existence.
There's a push, and a pull
and I go falling.
A fragment of a fragment,
I tumble somewhere unfamiliar-
and it takes eons to reconnect to something bigger
than my pieces.

your desire since you were a child was to be a singer,
The world gave you cigarettes.
You also wanted to be an astronaut,
The world gave you gravity,

Eventually you grew content enough to lay down on the grass, smoke your mind away, and stare at the stars.

Who'll you blame for the falling stars
When you're the one picking at them?

       But I only tried to rescue the moon
       He was stuck after the sun.

One step, deep breaths.
Two steps, body starts to shake.
Three steps, getting tense.
Four steps, legs are heavy.
Five steps, getting dizzy.
Six steps, can't feel my hands.
Seven steps, breath gets shorter.
Eight steps, pulse is rising.
Nine steps, I feel sick.
Ten steps, can't feel the ground.

Footsteps!
I feel someone coming up behind me.
The scent of a man.
Fear, panic, everything happens fast.
I can't breathe! I want to run but my legs won't work.
Losing touch with reality. I'm gonna faint, I'm gonna puke, someone help me..
A silent scream.
Memory loss.

I know you're supposed to be that thing
That thing that keeps me grounded.
That thing that keeps my feet on the floor.
That thing that keeps me from drifting away.
But lately I've been floating.
And I don't know if you know what that feels like.
It feels timeless
     and weightless
     and sunless
     and empty.
I feel empty.
My days melt to weeks and my weeks melt to months.
My body feels like a crisp breeze of air that I just can't inhale.
My eyes only see through a cloudy, dismal, forsaken lense.
And well gravity,
It's all because you seem to be absent.
Now I need you to understand that I'm not asking you to hold me down.
Because I'd rather float aimlessly than be trapped under your hold.
But I just know that if we work together,
We can create a beautiful compromise of flying and crawling
And I think normal people just call that living.
Don't get me wrong the blood is pumping through my veins so I know i'm alive
But if your lips can no longer muster the energy to smile
And your eyes can no longer muster the energy to cry
And if the forces of attraction are no longer attracted to you
Are you really living?