Deceiving from a distance– Illusions of an iceberg, while the wind recklessly whips me, withering away at my worth. Appearing as a broad, absent airport– At which I wish to refill my will to love. Hopes of the hovering giant handing out helpings, hiding her hindrances. Critically constructed criticism is confined to my conscience, imitating an intuitive ignorance, I infringe on my own instinctive intellect. Tumbling towards your treeless trails, my senses simulating a soft, selfless, supportive, scenery of slopes, scented of singed heart and sorrow, seemingly set to start a new story. Rewriting the ridiculous rules that render the rope righteous enough to restrict us from reaching each other, a utopia of true transparency trusted and tailored together by time and tragedy As I approach, panic displaces my ignorance as the slopes merge into a messy canvas. Plummeting through thick fog. Heavy mist like cotton balls crowd my airways, my clothes drench in air. A freezing tight grip to my skin. Grasping for gas in need of solidarity. Clenching onto a cloud in search of stability.