Blood Red Straps

Quick Poem.

I'm swinging back and forth,

In blood red straps,

High above certain death,

Whether I fail,

Quit,

Fired,

Whether I'm finished,

Finished with,

Depends on the straps,

Hanging by wrists,

And ankles,

Drugs and drink,

Sleep and hope,

That the straps will hold,

As they creak,

And ache,

Above the abyss,

Of all our futures.