Feather Weight

the mechanisms of the world don't work like they did before.
the floor trembles like bone beneath skin too thin
as my soles fail to seek solace in my ephemeral being.

so i hover,
bloated,
a balloon tied to nothing
waiting for the ceiling to accept me.

Teesta is a student, science enthusiast, and writer. She has a passion for biology and the arts, and creates zines in her spare time.