Rice

Sitting on the tilted chair
On the cusp of the fall
But not falling -- feeling
Only the horrifying lift
Of Innards -- is the pervasive feel;
I have felt myself
Slipping. Icarus' wings, I think,
At the melting point.
I said, "I am
Not quite certain.
I have rice in my brain
To keep the thoughts
From hardening, and
To maintain the illusion of
Maintaining my dignity."
The dignified set small goals
And achieve them with shame.
Dignity is an apex:
A point between privacy And pain.