bottom’s down under but where’s my ceiling? fallen times bouncing back  yet not always reaching. floor’s down below  but where’s my ceiling? the more i look the more i can’t see the more i loose myself within me cause i need what i can’t reach to reignite such feeling. up and down brushing my hair then kissing the clouds in ascending order. momentum upward reflects down opening up a lower low through which i fall. in harsh weather floor cradling me and i now feel the pressure of my ceiling gliding downward crushing me under its weight- my remains held in place by this rocky bottom of hopeless despair.