everything falls from me,
coins into a waterless abyss.
words fall as anchors,
hair cords as lifelines
that i cannot grasp
(my arms have also slipped away).
i am floating, weighed down
by the gravity of my insides
which also betray me
by exiting with my breath.
time is no longer my accomplice
i can’t get away with my own murder
the way i could when days were without number
now each sun is an accursed gift
mine not to squander but to hoard jealously
to protect fiercely from flood and famine
i raise my fists in worshipful defiance
to find that they rest in my lap, open,
waiting for dreams to fall through
into the future of my past