Tilt

It all starts with a loss of balance

Tipping arms waving to and fro

Silliness of a dizzy dream

Screaming, streaming madness

The desire grows bursting

Out of my ears

Through my nostrils

To the outside world

I feed it watching mesmerized

Memorizing objects blocking sun

slanted rays stretch and shrink

grow dim and bright

because coffins grow on trees

We must get away just with what

we can grab sleeping bags and

pads no extra clothes or food

We will sit on three legged stools

and sleep sliding on tilted floors

unsure of where we are when we wake