prepping for a tailspin

 

what could be the world throwing a new sunrise up the heavens, emergent blue, gleaming slowly, is also sheer panic and clinging to an old worn heartbeat, mustnt stop, no matter what, or all will be lost.

the long black boots, the odd huddle of bright clothes on the floor, the storm outside, the shapes and corners protected from rain, the concentric squares of gadgetry, the little minutes between music and pauses, everything is on the balance, as we go tumbling off

this speed is but a roaring inside, the sky, is detached and blue, also cloudy and beautiful, the horizon is untouched

there are pills and potions to curve a banana embrace around the screaming heart, there are numbnesses and soothing noises, there are breaths that can be taken oblivious, there is an eye to cloud lock that can be held with fierce concentration, reality is but a switch away

reality is neither relentless nor still, its more strings of excitement and calm tugging from both ends, it is music, ebbing and climbing, it is a curiously dissatisfied onlooker claiming balance among chaos

somewhere beyond the sky lives clarity, with a straight line horizon and five pointed stars, and to find it, there is no other way than to believe and keep looking, even as the ground is rushing up