Broken. Restored. Broken.

Taking moments to breathe as the air gets thin
—keeping just far enough above the surface;
arms tired, but pushing; feet beneath,
but without ground upon which to touch rescue.

Because without the bites,
the highs can't be
for the lows won't hurt,
and we'll never find the safety that we do
in the knowledge that oblivions like this
never have an end to begin with.