He stands on a cliff called love
Overlooking the abyss
I call out behind him
He’s ready.

He backtracks along the rocky surface
My face turns dark
The earth beneath him gives way
He’s falling.

He reaches out
Clawing at the darkness
My hands grab his
He’s safe.

I stand on a cliff called love
Overlooking the abyss
He calls out behind me
I’m ready.

I backtrack along the rocky surface
His face turns dark
The earth beneath me gives way
I’m falling.

I reach out
Clawing at the darkness
The abyss swallows me
I’m alone.

- t.h.

Starved of oxygen and grasping
at breath, sleeping in subways
and aware always
that death is in the next tunnel.

these are the no chance crews
the Special Brew cases,
often blitzed and out of their
faces, either
incoherent or absent or both
and we never know
because we don't want to go
down that avenue.

I wanted to scream
Until I heard the
Whistling in my ear.
I wanted a song
To pair with the freight
Train crashing through
My heart.
I wanted to feel my
Bones shatter
At the impact.

But instead,
I implode
And my lips pull
Into a smile.
"Don’t worry,
I’ll be fine
In a while".