I’ve been dancing along this figurative edge for an epoch
and I am getting very tired of the shadow that keeps pressing
against my left shoulder, hugging the curve of my lower back
refusing to let go and clutching at my sides like a clingy ex-lover.

I am halfway in the light.

And the brightness hurts because spotlights are loud and flashy
and I have mostly never been either of those things and now I
am slipping between black and white and dark and light and the
white light is burrowing a hole in my skull, right between these eyes.

I am halfway in the shadows.

It gets hard to choose which side to embrace, because the days are
long and grey and the air is putrid with want and my fellow primates
are all dancing on sharp enough edges that we could fall fast and slice
ourselves into halves and again and again and it could all fall through.

I am burning in the cold.

We are reaching the crossroads now, and I am not sure whether or not
I should take the leap down or lift myself up into the clean, crisp
white but shadow is slick and silence seems hazier than dreams and I
could do with any sort of nightmare over these chaotic days.

I am wavering on the edge.