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.