to believe the ground

i’ve recently become scared of calling crisis lines for myself

i know too many people in the field

it made sense until the paranoia took hold

so what is ground for me?

sometimes it hurts

i have grieved the loss of my ecstatic mania this year

coming to ground after a real expansive one can hurt so much

but the stability soon holds my dear capricorn moon and all is well

but for a moment: doubt

if i am anything it’s

helium balloon

today ground is comfort

a return to breath

solidity & sanctified

as much as i am you and you are me and etc etc

my ground is not the same ground as others’

whereas today the earth beneath me has been nothing but consistent

the number of humans for whom earth is a sliding, slipping, shaking thing

is reprehensible at the most fucking gracious i can be considering *gestures vaguely at everything*

these are the things i’m fiddling with in my head

while i over edit and follow my fancy down the rabbit hole

my comfort animal is the bat

their ground is felt tangentially

the air feels as familiar and stable as the floor

i love that