The Empathic

 

  Every last thing 

Weighs heavy on my cage. 

Chains of titanic crushing bulk, 

  Pinning down 

My arms, 

  and my torso. 

  Yet...

I feel the weight only in my mind. 

  Branches that reach too far 

     that are too heavy...

Finding themselves snapped or touching ground. 

  I feel the bolster of every action 

Kinetically pulling, his, or theirs, 

  or mine. 

No notion of real reprieve. 

  Just cylinders in a wheel. 

Ever turning. 

  I can not move in this world....

 Without such a primal effect. 

I can not breathe, 

  and have it mean nothing. 

The whole world spins out when I do...

  and yet it keeps on spinning.