The Floor

 The floor is something we must fight against.
 
Whilst seemingly mere platform for the human 
stance, it is that place that men fall to.

 I am not dizzy.
 I stand as a tower, a lighthouse; 
the pale ray of my sentiency flowing from my face.


 But should I go dizzy I crash down into the floor; 
my face into the floor, my attention bleeding into 
the cracks of the floor.


 Dear horizontal place, I do not wish to be a rug.
 
Do not pull at the difficult head, this teetering 
bulb of dread and dream .
 .
 .

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