Butterfly Effect

I keep finding stones on the floor

I sweep them away

But they come back

They always come back

Not soft

Not like pillows

Or sleep

That thing that murmurs

In my ear

That takes

Me to the floor at 3am

I write in pencil

It disappears by morning

Not important enough to stay for a few more hours

The sink has taken me again

It is not important enough to be seen

I walk up the hill across the grass and the dandelions cling to my shoes it is nice

Nice until I reach the bench and see the dirt

On my toes

On my hands

In my head

I walk away

I always walk away

Incomplete

Undone

We were not allowed to speak

That’s what I want to say

I stand in the kitchen

The jitters as old as the plans

There is nothing left to be scared of

But it wears me away

Still

The grind of wings across my skull

Changing everything and nothing

I am turned to stone

Falling on the floor

Without noise

Without sound

I fill my ears with her voice

My hand with powder

My body with dust

I stand in the kitchen

Not sure

Keeping old lists

Forgetting new thoughts

I look at my hands

I look at my face

Falling like stone on the floor.