knocked over heaven

i love to thwart the overlords
in small ways. i lie when my phone
asks me about my hungers.
i say, "of course i would like to buy
a ticket to the orange place."
the best i can do is keep a varied 
propaganda diet. if i dig myself
out of my grave today i think i would
like to see my grandmother.
i have not seen her bones in years.
they just arrested a grave robber
a few cities over. apparently his house
was full of hundreds of skeletons.
i know true crime is mostly copaganda 
but sometimes i want to see 
what horrors are going on. just give me
a little taste so i can know one truth.
it makes some people paranoid
but to me it makes me more reckless.
i am prone to breaking glasses
& spilling drinks. once i held heaven.
it was kind of like a dense water. 
fatty. almost soup. 
i got it all over the kitchen floor. 
sometimes i still see smudges of it
in the corner or on the hem 
of the fridge's skirt. i don't know i we 
only get one glass in our lives. it would
not be the first time i wasted something.
my dad told me to invest the money
i used to have. i never did. where did it go?
i was laughing. i was buying 
smash-proof eyes. you were living
in the ceiling watching me eat with my hands.
most of us "just one more" ourselves
into the sunset. that is me too. 
i met a holy man in a toll booth. i moved
too fast to hear what he said. 
on my hands & kneeing cleaning up the mess.
i cut a hole in the ocean to breathe. 
open the windows to let the angels in.