when we are formed
from the clay,
was everyone made this way?
who do i have to blame
for the effort i make, every day?

the constant self-catch
of my own mind
from falling off that curb
in sleep, is the same when i am awake.
swinging from an emotional trapeze,
every moment scanning the ground
for a net that is only made from flimsy me.
and its been such an effort, recently.

is it just mine and mine alone,
my brainwaves diseased,
i am a cannibal feeding off my own needs.

at night, when i say to you
'i feel desperate'
i cant even put a noun to that sentence.
i think its the feeling of weightlessness
and the desperation for
a net or the ground to finally come.

04/26/2012

Posted on 04/26/2012
Copyright © 2026 Vikki Owens