i don't think physics is helping here

i am afraid of falling off the earth. i am afraid of all the atmospheres pressing down, holding me in this tenuous balance.

that and spinning are all that's keeping me from the lies of the stars. 

i always thought drowning would be peaceful, but they say it's not. 
i always imagined space full of sunlight, but i hear it's not. 

i was going to put some metaphor here about pupils, but it's not working out. i can't think of another one. my head is empty that way. 

i imagine that space is full of time. twisting and smothering. enough until it has no meaning. 


strangely, this is also how i experience evenings. suffocating and endless. i'm drowning in my own space. it's only seven. the voice pops up in my head, sleep yet? and i have to tell it no. again. 


really, i've nothing to say. 
or maybe i've too much to say and it's all getting jammed and it feels like nothing. 

i feel spacious inside. dark and empty and cheated because forever, i've been promised the heavens. 

they say that stars are made of gas. which is just a fancy way of saying nothing. 

if only my insides had such swirls of color. 
if only my insides were so vast.
i imagine caverns pregnant with light. swirls of words.
a star nursery. where the young ones are kept. 

except i've heard it's dark in there. and smells of rot. there is no space. but there is time in there, isn't there? 
my organs seem to understand time. they seem to stop working if i forget to eat. they feel better if i dance. they do not allow me to do both. 

how can i be empty and stuffed full of slippery rot all at once? 
there's two worlds colliding.
something in my head is breaking off. it can't contain the impact. 
which is more or less how we got our moon. 

which brings me back to starlight. 
which, in truth, is white and cold. 

so, there's that. 
can't really think of anything else.