So why did I think that I'd be able to hear the noise outside without opening up the window? That I'd magically like my room without latching on HARD to the walls, like hanging a tightrope from one end to the other so that I could just suspend my body, just to hang over top of myself, my true self or maybe just my body as it lays in bed, watching the ceiling like a clock and searching FOR LIFE. Life is hanging over me as a second body watching the first body, still as rocks, arms and legs weaving between the wall-to-wall road to nowhere. But in her eyes, I know that there is something terribly wrong. I wonder if she thinks that she is the true bottom and I'm in the ceiling, seconds away from falling and crushing her whole being, ruining her ability to love. And how will anyone ever find her,
if she cannot send out
A SIGNAL?
There might be no true top and no true bottom, only space between, crushing us both with the silence it holds overhead. Crushing just me, the way I would. I never really gave this room its fair chance.