from falling to floating 

Zion Davison
a window you can't climb out of 
and a deadly drop to prickly blueberry bushes
a house full of prayers and quiet dysfunction

when my body decays
i hope my spirit finds its perfect resting place

my skull’s interior smothers a stone
fierce red blood gushes from my crown
a painting of my past against the concrete
wedged between time and blueberries


my soul beaten and pure
climbs out from my left ear drum
and sits on my lips watching the ants drown in my blood
watching the fruit flies nibble on my fingertips

she feels like a ghost
as she watches herself die
a ghost that’ll haunt herself
till someone else takes her place
and she’s finally freed from the worldly obsessions
that acted as shackles around her ankles

the smoke from my lips causes my nostrils to flare
and the world begins to shift counterclockwise
the shackles break and I fall into the sky
past my own reflection which remains in the bushes
blood stains my feet as a mark of the past

mental snapshots fade
and are replaced with clouds
and I'm formed into an orb of light
wafting through a dimension I hope to be heaven