The Pull of Weaker Forces

 the grin of gravity is vast as we tease the fall. overconfident in our plastic wings.

only the sky knows what we look like from above.

frail gods in heavy robes. biting at the wind.

the truth is a curious venom. gently peeling away calloused skin.

time is a fickle mistress. draped in her soiled sheets. singing her broken songs.

the journey is a paradox. how close we come is the same as how far we've gone.

the apex is a simple lie. a forgotten name that still lingers at those abandoned intersections.

we see everything. and nothing. orphaned arbiters of empty staircases.

only the bottom knows what we look like from below.