Someone said to me,
“the sky is just a glass dome
shielding us from a cold world where we
and when it’s dark outside
you can see the snow collected on the sky,”
and there are three things about this snowfall sky
that I have a problem with,
personally, globally, creatively.
I’ve always looked up at the sky
no matter where I am.
I’ve looked up
from grass, sand, rooftops,
even the deathbeds of my friends.
My backdrop keeps changing
but the sky has always been my
go-to repeat binge-watching show.
I draw inspiration from it
and you’re telling me that something
that makes me so strong
I don’t believe that.
If you do that to me,
then my knees will give out
and buckle so bad
you’ll call it an earthquake.
Humans are so strong,
I am so strong
that I’d survive a god-made apocalypse
made of just broken hope stories
where finding love is like solving
an eleven by infinite-eleven Rubik’s.
The girls I’ve loved
were so brave
that even after breaking down,
they would always stand back up,
and love again and again.
The cities I’ve known stand so tall
that sometimes they break through the snowfall sky
and even then,
they never look down
on me or my billion friends.
The gods I’ve loved are so human
and the humans I’ve loved are so god,
that you should trust me when I say,
we would survive anything.
Maybe I can picture a glass dome and
a weird, cold, unknown world
but I refuse to creatively believe
that if this world is a home that science couldn’t find
then gravity works there the same way.
In that world,
snow goes up,
people fly but want to walk,
and everybody rises in love.
The bad people go further up to hell,
and the good people fall through their soil
and our sky
into human lives.
I will not believe
that we’re the heart
and the sky is just the ribcage,
no matter how nice that sounds.
Into stories? – Strip-poetry
Instagram – @myspirals