the numb that overcomes

I can see the world out of my left window,

even when I close the curtain.

Maybe it's a sign?

The pain that blooms in my chest

like a lazy sunday rose

resembles those outside the glass.

I hear whispers

and mumbles

and snatch the words that have bled into open air

before they can leave a stain.

Yet my ears are still imbrued

with an ugly truth.

I am afraid of things that aren't real

and spit in hazard's eye.

The gray bolders that yank my ankles

toss me at a sinking sky.

And I fall.

I have never stopped falling.