I need to break out of the wide-open cell I have locked myself in.
I can spot the thieves, the robbers, the vagrants,
all shifting through the sticky tin and plastic
of my life's wasted moments.

Every alternative reality mocks and condescends me,
highlighting every stutter and stumble
as I fall through life on this (temporal and fleeting) trapeze.

And clinging onto the hopes of a softer landing,
I know I will always fall into the safety of the net
so that I do not land deep in that shallow water
and drown in a six-inch pool.

I have been thinking of rope again.
The simplicity and mastership it would take
to efficiently break my neck so that the crack of bone would precede
the crack of thread.

I have been thinking of sleep again.
The simplicity and infallibility it contains.
Incorporating every aspect of being
and painting it in the only colours I can see.
And I see.
And I understand.