( inspired by a friend ) Static, stationary, hanging in a day, Like clothes on a line. Head is a buzz, Eyes are wide ; but they do not see. Faces talking at me, Ears abandoned by sound, Lips move, but I see wiggles and squiggles where words should be. And this feeling, they say, is called Down. But where have i fallen from? Yesterday i was high, Now im on the floor. Pick me up, shake me down, Shake down this visage, Unmak me; unveil me, Do not derail me. Help me out, Out of this haze and into the next. Fallen? Yes, but i'm about to be swept back off my feet.
