The sun set,

my skin burnt red,

the beetles had gone

from my brain.

A porch light turns on,

the air fills blue and lime

and my skin

burns so warm

I feel dizzy.

I’m forgetting what it felt like

that time when I fell,

but I remember that the bottom was liquid 

that surged in sharp waves with the wind.

Could there have been safety in that sadness?

Surety in uncertainty,

comfort in the sporadicness of change?

Is it now

more or less like a dream?

Flowers on my windowsill,

I fall deeper still.

The falling that makes you feel dizzy,

over and under and infinitely.

There is sweetness in the air

that means not to sting me.

Slightly dizzy

I stay here,

letting my skin start to peel.