The Climb

Now walking to the sun

I calculate what I had done like jumping from the bow, yeah

Just to prove that I knew how, yeah

The climb up to the rooftop of the Suicide Tower is several flights of stairs, and several thoughts climbing stairs in my head. Sliding slipping falling.

Down Down Down,

Breaking,

From way up here I can see everything. When now it doesn't matter. Nothing at all. Because all that matters here to me is lying in a hospital bed with life giving tubes being siphoned from It's cracking shell.

It…he…

Ineffable, the tears won't stop coming. As I look around me, as I look down I begin to notice the faces of people I once knew. And people I might one day have known. I have the sudden jolt the will to turn around and go back. Back down the stairs. Back to him, to salvage the remnants of a flesh and believing in an instant that everything just might be alright if I'm strong.

I quickly realize I am foolish to believe this.

I would rather die than have this hole in my life.

I step towards the fringes of the roof, stick a toe out experimentally, testing the weight of what's to come. The sudden liberality, the fulfilled promise in that wide gaping mouth, smiling and full of open air.

I should jump. I should not.

I should……