zippers falling to the burning sand
Pottery floating through picture frames
Belly laughing about all the good times
Skydiving to feel the sensation
Dipping toes in and out of the truth
Cringing over all the untold stories
Fake lives running for anything
Buying the world to simply own me
Screaming headwinds skipping beats
Abandoned to food therapy
Seeing laundry dance for fun
Ice cold people who don’t exist
Blank thoughts filled with emptiness
Inching dragons crawling with their eyes
Stealing a lie from a lier speaking truth
Caging a house hoping for safety
Listening to air that doesn’t move
Popping a balloon to break this...
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The Dangling Bead
My life is splashing before my eyes, as I precariously suspend and prepare for the end, the consumption of my Self and identity. I know that gravity will be the victor in this struggle. Like a pendant, slipping from the chain, the tension has caught me in this moment, bestowing one last gift of reflection. I cling desperately, questioning my purpose. Searching for comfort. And I remember…
By Leslie Staven7 days ago in Fiction
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