Static, hanging in a day

Static, stationary, hanging in a day,
Like clothes on a line.
Head is a buzz,
Eyes are wide ; but they do not see.

Faces talking at me,
Ears abandoned by sound,
Lips move, but
I see wiggles and squiggles where words should be.

And this feeling, they say, is called Down.
But where have i fallen from?
Yesterday i was high,
Now I’m on the floor.

Pick me up, shake me down,
Shake down this visage,
Unmake me; unveil me,
Do not derail me.

Help me out,
Out of this haze and into the next.
Fallen?
Yes, but I'm about to be swept back off my feet.