Bow Ties in the Sky

There’s a ribbon floating in the air,
swirling through the clouds of molecules,
soaking into chimneys of houses and
blood-red hearts and
the gas ball in the sky.

There are words on that ribbon,
freefalling phrases that seem to lose meaning
if you stare too long.
It seems like that’s what everything’s like these days;
as if things cannot handle the burn of the pupils,
as if they’ll dissipate when you stare too long.
[Many things have lost meaning]

I wish I couldn’t see the ribbon,
swimming around ruthlessly through the rays
of the sun
and beyond.
No matter how many times I draw my jet-black curtains
with golden laces,
it finds a way through the crevices of weaves.
[It won’t leave me alone]

Sometimes, it seems as if the ribbon is after me,
specifically.
[Nobody else seems to see it, just me]