posted on Nov, 1 2012 @ 11:44 PM
It’s a little less a burden every time.
You see, the bruises aren’t better
but the scratches are fine,
and I’ve got every intent to go onward,
mouth open, eyes wide,
letting every sensation inside.
I haven’t had time to
sweep the glass off the floor;
it’s a thing to watch out for,
those edges are hell on your feet.
And the heat is just awful,
gets worse every day.
But hey, at least this way,
you’ll never be scared.
Each time I do it I’m better prepared.
When you’re gripping the panel with your feet on the sill,
it’s a crime not to jump, if there’s space there to fill.
So you take a start, running, and out, like
bullet to space,
and your churning feet can’t keep apace,
and you’re sliding down oxygen, pumping your body through
blackness and branches, limb over limb, and
somewhere in there,
for a second,
you forget about him...
and the landing is perfect.
and it’s hard,
and the impact won’t hurt you, but
the sound leaves you scarred.
And you find that you’re up, and you’re running inside,
to get back to that attic
and that bleeped-up thrill-ride,
and there’s glass in the soles of your feet,
and it’s hotter than hell,
and that last fall prepared you so well
for that split second segment of ecstacy,
wrapped in a shroud
of forgetfulness, in between concrete and cloud.
when you hurt yourself,
it’s a victimless crime.
And it’s a little less a burden every time.