it’s
it’s as if
it’s as if I’m here
and yet
it’s as if I’m there
it’s as if I’m moving
and yet
it’s as if I’m still
it’s as if I’m falling down
and yet
it’s as if I’m standing up
if I listen closely,
it’s as if there’s a tempest
swelling
in the precipice
of my thoughts
tossing neurons to and fro,
spreading white noise
across the fabric of my skin
*
it’s as if I’m breathing
this air, so smooth and clear,
see how it bends with me,
see how it never asks why
it’s as if I can touch
the surface of the minutes,
that I ride
my limbs swivel in their sockets,
vectors entangle,
the atmosphere parts
and I follow
and yet
it’s as if I’m lost
within the architecture of my body,
as if my fingers cannot seal up
the crack in the sky,
as if my muscles cannot appease the Phoenix
beneath the floor
*
it’s as if I can taste
the questions in the back of my mind
and the answers upon the tip of my tongue
and yet
somehow I feel
as though I’m more than these mechanisms,
as if I recognise the warmth of that light
and the sound of that music
it’s as if there are things more withstanding than flesh
and more delicate than ivory
