At some point, I have to stop, my feet skidding on the
gravel before I slip over the edge, before I reach the tipping point, before I
lose my grip and slip down into the abyss.
All of it there before me, everything I ever desired,
staring back up at me, curving fingers with painted nails for me to take the
plunge, the ache of it so intense as to make me leap off, regardless of common
sense that tells me I’d be crazy to take that fatal step, feet slipping as if obedient
to another will, your will, to go and not look back, to take it all, to be a lecherous
as she, get knee deep in it, down, down deep into the muck. I want to cover
myself with it all, and still hold back, clinging to the tip of this cliff as
if my life depends on it, knowing if I don’t stop now, I never will, thrilled
at my own demise, feet slipping as my fingers cling to artificial morality that
makes no sense, stop now, or simply go all the way.
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