Down With Gravity

If only I could just name something, any hypothetical thing at all…

…that would satisfy this godawful ache. Even if it were totally impossible. I don’t even NEED this hypothetical thing. Only to name it. Naming it would be enough for me to be at rest with this hovering, angry, unsettling air around me, seeping in my lungs. 

Not wine, nor whiskey. Not a book. Not sex. I don’t want to be in anyone’s arms. Not a perfect crisp bright gray day. I don’t even want the ocean right now, and thats scary. To know that the ocean can’t cure me right now. 

Godfuckinghell, what are you???