drown. (I)

Holding up on my own

all that Atlas

left to man,

when all the world’s

not just a globe

but every heart

beats worlds unknown.

This burden bearing

on my neck

breathing down

my back -

turned on its head,

like all the rest.

Knocking on my bedroom wall

an oso for sos

save me from myself

out of corners dark and cold

where I make my bed -

the demons at my door,

waiting for an opening,

and of the one that left -

seven walked the world to me -

emptied out

brushed and swept,

brought them back as guests.

No flooded globe

but in my soul

and every soul

all drowned and left

without a breath.

What promise have you kept...?