This parachute is crushing my ribs so that
my knees buckle when I land.

I feel sick.
I ***** up post-its and
menthol cigarettes
and pages of a movie script.

Inside jokes drip off my chin
when my eyes
roll back inside my head.

There's too much sweat
on my upper lip out,
out without warning doubled over
come collaborated lyrics that ****
sticking to quotes from books that speak to us.

I put a message in a full bottle of
gingerbread schnapps
so you won't know what it says
when you get drunk
and this parachute won't come off.