Every Friday night, I sit down to play a game
If I can live till Monday's dawn , I may actually win one
See, the world no longer seems full of human things
It is sharp edges cut with a green reminiscent of computer screens on mute
Or the look of an ocean after the storm break: glowing lightly at the seams
I stand on one end of the beam, twisting silently in midair,
watching you sway precariously upon the other
Claw the air into a frothy boil while going tiptoe along the rim
Push yourself again and again, ever further outwards from the center; hope?
How strange, because you were once a noble creature, now at the end of your time
All that lies between us is the gulf, an abyss from which none return once entered
Such a shallow hole sunk into the earth crust
You will turn and come back from the borderlands to kill them all; dear pen
let this note draw blood indiscriminately
Will I find freedom in the sky, or instead in the coldness of the liquid torn from it
Hold steady fate; allow me to bide my time
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