My insides are in perpetual free fall

My lungs are tight inside my ribs

My heart’s pressed up against my collarbone

and it hurts

But if it stopped, I think that would hurt worse

It’s an irrational need to know the little things

It’s a bizarre desire to paint, and I can’t paint to save my life

It’s an overwhelming urge to lay down and laugh until I cry

If there is a spiritual plane parallel to ours,

my soul wants to rest beside yours

It’s paralyzing, intoxicating, completely upside down

and I can't be sure

but I’m fairly certain it’s your fault.