Creepers weave their way up
Only to pull me down
I am falling now
falling frame by frame
I can hear voices
frogs conspiring
Or just snoring
Or planning their French fly with a herb tea for the morning
can’t they hear me scream?
Even I can’t.
My throat’s ripping apart anyways
Wind’s whistling loud
Too loud to decode the notes
or there aren’t just any
everything is not music
But I am still dancing to it
Flapping my hands
Wagging my legs too
Maybe I should try one thing at a time
Maybe I should keep still
And let wind fill me up like a polythene bag
How I wish I ate less
I have left no space for the wind
I can’t make space here. This is not like my private space.
I am missing my private space.
I am also missing my room adjoining the private space
I am missing my grinning wooden cat,
my irritating oval alarm clock
my chair with a broken leg
my yellow shoes, now red brown mustard

(while I am busy missing things, the ground reality strikes; I am closer to the ground)

Wish a hay truck comes by and catches me
The way it does in all the movies
There is not even a bicycle in sight.

Wish I hadn’t learnt what gravity was
Wish Newton hadn’t formulated it in the first place
Wish I had never attended school.
Wish I had a short term memory.
Wish it didn’t run in my mind now.
Wish I could keep my brain out, for a while.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
THUD.