I’m hanging on this chair.
Not just sitting
but actually hanging.
Dangling.
The room’s spinning around like gravity
has been pulled this way and that.
Like someone’s pulling me
this way and that.
My arms and legs.
I’m hanging onto this chair,
onto this table,
onto this floor,
onto this life.
Clinging.
When I finally realised I couldn’t hold on anymore
I realised I didn’t have to.
I fell to the floor so hard.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
I have very little idea what this is about.
Words words words.
Hard times at the moment.
Wish me luck.
Hi…I just found your post on tag surfer. I felt like I was participating poem…it is so descriptive! The words drew me in as if it were happening to me. And then….a little laugh at the end when I hit the floor.
Have a blessed day,
Scotti
http://scotti.wordpress.com
Thank you.
That makes me feel good about it.
Before I even saw the tags for this poem I thought, release but then I thought about overstaying your welcome at a happy hour.
Your words fit together nicely.
I’ll be back again after a few hundred winks…
Thanks for the visit today.
~m
Thank you.
A chair can be a good pet you know.
You can teach it to sit and everything.
I can play dead.
I knew you were talented.
I got skills you can’t imagine.
🙂