2am

Sometimes, at 2am, I am holding on for dear life.

I am one last millisecond away from letting go and being washed away

It burns away come the morning light. Every time. Without fail.

And I know it will, even while it rages; I know.

The edge though is a sharp one. Precarious, teasing, blinding, lonely, giddy, ancient

The magnitude is just so huge it’s a tidal wave, an earthquake, a living breathing storm of never-ending

Tip. Tip. Tip

Breathe

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