Im crashing like the doves that hit the clouds when we let them go at your funeral. And if you couldn’t stay awake then why were you even at the wake ? I only fall down when I feel worthy of jumping- but somehow I levitate. I’m floating above the trees and watching you stumble through the thicket like a dare. I ask the clouds to cry and they refuse, they refuse, they refuse. I want you to know what it feels like to drown, then wake up. The world isn’t on my side anyways- it mocks me for trying to stumble backwards. I hear it’s laughter like a screech. And I try to forgive- I try to heal. I try to stretch my bones. I try to wake up- I do this loudly. My throat stings from screaming and my hands ache from the bruising. Maybe it’s just nicotine fever. It’s like a withdrawal from that sort of pain. And as much as I hate it I can’t help but need the sting. Im not bending or breaking under the pressure- I’m crashing.