We Are All Kinds Of Broken Over Here*

We are all kinds of broken over here,

And the world is sideways. 

All the things that would fall off of a sideways world

Are kept spinning in place by gravity,

So instead of relief, we just feel nauseated,

And life goes on, and we must gather the pieces

One at a time as they spin past,

And try to repuzzle this life back together again.

It won’t ever look

Or feel

Or be

 exactly the same,

but it will be something different, something wider;

the cracks between the pieces are where light,

water, and air will get in and soon

green shoots will permeate

places we thought that nothing would ever grow again

but

for now, we are just all kinds of broken and

the world

is sideways.

(*Alternative title: How it feels to be human.)