Some days I like to pretend I'm a bat.
Pteropus, it means flying fox.
It's fun though. Because it looks like everything's being pulled to the ceiling that way.
Shoes, hair, smiles.
If it weren't for that dizzy feeling of blood rushing to my head and out my nose,
I really could convince myself that everyone else is upside down.
Aren't they anyway?
It pulls so strong, but I'm not sure which way.
Am I being pulled by you, or pulled by me?
Do I want to stand up, or stand down?
Everything's upside down.
From gravity to our priorities to me.
Why is it-
that everything is
only when I am.
You have to flip
go top-side over
to realize everything's backwards.
...everything.
I taste something metallic in the back of my head, wet and thick.
I right myself, get a little woozey from the switch
when the room stops spinning
I realize my world is upside down.
Down with the upside.
Another cold empty night at the edge of my bed.
No light to remind me that I'm right side up.
All is right in the left world.
