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Jun 2017
on a tight rope
looking down 16 miles.


the wind blows cold,

and the few people on the other building throw peaches at me-
none stick.


a car drives down below
at 88 miles,

birds fly,
planes fly,
smog.


coughing
losing
hold,

I fall the 16 miles down,


counting every second,

and upon hitting the pavement,
I wake up to my room. It's Tuesday

and I'm tucked in well
Jay earnest
Written by
Jay earnest  30/M/Socal
(30/M/Socal)   
  320
   Jane Marie Cooper and camps
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