I spent a night in the clouds, 
two in the valley and I still don’t 
like choices you can’t come back from.
I looked life in the face at the 
edge of a cliff and it didn’t flinch – 
it laughed, and I choked on my words.

I thought of the end and 
I met it for what it was: 
sobering and anticlimactic.
I guzzled cement, made my
bed between two jagged rocks
and leaned into it, choiceless.

There’s flailing in the freefall, 
a helpless ringing like a death
rattle that churns up every solid
glass memory and still finds time
to fantasize before you hit the
bottom, clear of all the wonder. 

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