I can feel myself unravelling
and tumbling to the bottom
of one of the town's many hills.
the apartment is slanted,
with the bathroom door's right corner tilted to meet the ceiling
three inches earlier than the left corner;
three inches closer to falling over
and splintering against the sloping wall.
at three inches a day,
I am coming undone.
I am speeding towards late nights
and hours of staring at my ceiling,
wondering what it will take
to straighten everything out.
and then I remember the world is round
and that I will always end up where I started.