Icarus's blog: "Just South of Blue."

Knots in my spine
bells in my head.

Could be the sinkhole. Draining straight down.
Hand just kept itching for the hold.

Pull the plug.
Marvel at the spin.

Propping fine glassware on a pedestal of cure, and silence.
I can do this.

I can do this.
My hand's just eager.

The spirit, willing.
I can do this.

Doesn't even burn anymore.
But the room does dialate a bit.

There's a stillness,
like the moment before some crucified tyrant falls clattering to the ground.

Gasps were held
but that second, contemplative glance passed.

Couldn't get much worse.
So it won't.