My hands are barely grasping the sides
of this crevasse from which I hang,
my desperation to stay above tempered
by the screeching cry of fire
that rings around my brain,
those negative feelings piling
on top of each other, weighing down
my shoulders and splintering fingertips
that struggle to find purchase,
these muscles shriek in agony
as layer upon layer of argument
with that version of self, the one
who needles your fears, your
flaws, and delightfully rises to any
occasion to insult and belittle,
stacks, all the while he holds my
cheeks in bloodied talon, forcing
me to stare into his eyes as
he smiles.
I am in danger.