1995-2013:
Somewhere along the line, I start pacing back and forth.
I don’t know how badly I’m weakening the floorboards.
The only thing getting stronger is the rust on the windowsills.
Everything feels fine.

2014:
I start beating the floor.
The wood is creaking.
Something feels wrong, but it will be over soon.
It always is.

2015:
The floor breaks under the weight of my fists
and the floor below that breaks under the weight of the rubble
and my falling body.
I start beating the floor because it’s all my fists know how to do.
The floorboards are creaking.
I don’t know how many floors I can fall through before there’s nothing left to catch me.
The floorboards are creaking and
Everything is wrong.

2016:
I’m nailing shut the holes I broke in the floor.
I don’t know if I’m making it stronger
or filling it with more holes.
I’m prying rust off the windowsill but the windows stay closed.
Everything feels fine.
Like it felt when I was wearing the floor out beneath my feet.
Everything feels fine.
Like when the floor’s support began to falter under my weight.
Everything feels fine,

but I wish I could take a breath of fresh air.