I ask you if you believe in the afterlife? In a God?
You simply say no.
You say it so easily as if the earth beneath our feet suddenly didn't start to spin like the beginning of a fair ride.
I'm gripping the handlebars that are your arms and squeezing my toes in my shoes. I can't feel reality in this enclosed space.
My mind swirls in a confined space.
She's always spinning, never letting me rest. How could one day she just ceased to exist? Where do my thoughts go? How does my consciousness just fade into atmosphere? How do I become nothing? How could I not exist? How do I stop thinking? Where do I go? Where do I not go? How do I not?
My hands are sweating and I'm losing my grip. My seatbelt is no longer holding me. I'm off the rails. I'm falling.
What am I if there is no God?
YOU ARE READING
Metamorphosis
Poetry"You do not cease to exist just because I wish you to." Started: 4/3/20 Finished: 8/20/20 My 6th poetry book.
