why is it my tears only slip?
never fall
never pour

they slip the sadness out of my heart
they slip out in laughter
they slip me into surrender.

and i fear the helplessness of their slipping.

who will be the one to watch me slip i wander?
and like the first time i skated,
will i be laughing or crying?

my tears
have slipped between the cracks i've been meant to believe i've fallen through
they're slipping colour into the ink as i write
they've slipped silently in the shower to render them invisible
and i hate it when i'm on fire and they slip down
like a fail-safe to an active volcano -

what good do they do?

even when i shut my eyes
they slip through.

they make creeks out of me in my hysteria
slipping me in and out of the flux
they're the grease, the oil that drips through the fulcrum
that teeter-totters laughter and sadness

they slip like sugar in the morning light as
i pour my coffee to start the same day over again

they slip onto to the floor where i lye
out of the bottle and into the glass
as i listen to music and float away on voices and waves
they slip out the words i could never say

but my favourite place to slip
is out in the rain,
and for a moment i can entertain
the pathetic fallacy that
the sky has fallen,
and the world is slipping with me.