The more I reach,
The further down the well I slide.
The space grows deep and bland.
The words lose meaning when they’re all the same.
I move faster, grasping for what I thought was there,
But the holds are tenuous and slick from use.
I’ve read these words so many times
They no longer hold me and down I slide
Into the haze, the scroll, the hell…

Your fingers on my neck.
You crack my line of sight
Pull me out with one quick kiss
And a proffered cup of coffee
And there, in the space of a smile, you bring me back
To the world, real and alive.