Tonight,
I am climbing down a long sturdy ladder made of thick rope and age old oak.
Flecks of wood keep getting caught in between my lanky finger nails.
I wince as they prick the flesh that lines my hands.
Down and down and down I slowly spiral,
the night air shifting and caressing and blessing my circulation.
the night air shifting and caressing and blessing my circulation.
Three feet from the damp soil,
reality enfoldes my left ankle and gently pulls.
reality enfoldes my left ankle and gently pulls.
I let the ladder slip from my grasp and squeeze my eyes shut.
Will I tumble blindly towards the sound of my torso's thud into the earth?
No.
Gravity stops,
time breaths in
and
I
just
-
-
FLOAT
-
-
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