Gravity is never forgiving. It keeps us alive but keeps us down, ever dripping our drops onto this earth. I’ve noticed my throat sag from the weight of it these days.
Both gravity and time working together to rob me of my better physical attributes. I can feel them both gripping and pulling - pulling me forward and pulling me down, glueing my soul to the soil like Georgia red clay. Slugging along the grueling grind. It’s a heavy load that we all carry around as we are all dragged into our own prisons for our petty crimes.
I’m on the road again for work from time to time these days and I can feel it all happening even more, even faster. The harder the plane tries to escape the grip of gravity, the more I become compressed, confined, claustrophobic, contorted. I can feel the weight of it. I can feel my spinal column tapping on the doors of the past. I can feel myself slumped over in the hospital rooms, melting into the foam and vinyl chairs.
Planes and the hospitals feel similar to sit in. They give me the same feeling of suffocation. The feeling of being in a place I can’t escape with others controlling my destiny - my future seeming as if it’s been too planned, too calculated, yet too vulnerable.
Connecting to the world through an internet with too many restraints and restrictions. Surrounded by pamphlets about how to survive - instructions for what to do when things go wrong. Pamphlets I used to hope I’d never need. Pamphlets that talk about the things one might need to know when grieving a loss or crashing into the ocean.
Cartoons on screens in my peripheral - a stale portrail of fantasy lands. My eyes fixed on more real things though, like the people around me slouching or seizing as the world spins along. The surfaces of seats cleaned between the bodies. The baggage hanging overhead.
We are heart broken, goddamnit, but one day we’ll be on the mend. There isn’t a hospital or an airplane that can keep us down. There’s no weight we can’t carry. There’s nothing that can keep us apart.
Gravity will eventually carry us all to the grave, but it’ll be ok because I always make sure the last thing I always say before I take off is “I love you”.