Heartache Misnomer

If there is a God
within these clouds
at 35,000 feet where everything is frozen
for 2 hours
on our private jet
I ask
does happiness come in a bottle
a pill
a sip
a drag
or is happiness inside
when I say inside I mean behind your bone
under your heart wrapped in your veins
like a rooted vine
happiness could be a weed
couldn’t it?
because if you yank it
kill it
roll it over with a Mack truck
it will
at some point
even at 35k
when the world is small
and I feel big
there is a hole
from roots pulled out
yet I siphon God
from a flute glass
ask him to save me
I’m a hurter
they say
but only to my very own


Lay me down these
and crumbling bones
grass under me I smell the wild
I’m void of people I lie motionless
let ants crawl over me
the tickling sensation
feels so natural
so real………….so real
that I remember
I am real
and here on the grass
fully aware

Donna Dallas studied creative writing and philosophy at NYU. She was originally published in The New York Quarterly and was lucky enough to study under founder and Editor, William Packard. She took a slight hiatus and most recently has appeared in Visceral Uterus, Red Fez Magazine, Bewildering Stories, Anti-Herion Chic, The Opiate and several other publications.