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Matthew Harrington

Updated: Sun, 24 Dec 2017 05:03 pm

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I like writing. I'm not sure what else to say.


The desire to jump doesn't subside - it ebbs and flows. The desire pushes and pulls like the waves of an ocean; the waves that thrash about the little crabs on the shoreline. I can't get my footing in the sand,so I stay there forever, being tossed and thrashed around with the tide. It's not a far jump - roughly ten to fifteen feet. I'm only on the second floor,but I just think of the feeling of falling. I think about how nice that'd feel right now. It feels so boring to not fall ; to stand here safely. I could fall off this balcony right now and I probably wouldn't die. I'd just break something,but the fall would be lovely. I bet it'd last thirty seconds for the five seconds I'm in the air. I bet when I hit the ground I'd still be falling. When someone finds me sprawled out in the grass covered puddle by my balcony - I'll still be falling. I'd be falling all the way to the hospital. I'd be falling up until the moment they stuck an IV in my arm and the pain floats away. Then I'd hit the ground. Then it'd start to hurt. I think that fall would be worth it. Worth whatever pain comes after. I don't want to be grounded any longer. I want my ten legs to dig into the sand - the sand that stays damp from where the ocean touches then falls away. I want to drag my body away. I want to escape the thrash of the shore and fall from the sky above.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Viewed 122 times since 13 Oct 2017

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