(You will need to highlight this piece to see the depth of the poem. Once again, I am experimenting. Please comment.)

Peering through my thoughts, while flying above
Down below there’s only drugs between friendships
Everyone is so high, but they still can’t see me
Arms open wide I reach, oh how I reach…

All that returns is a wind of graphite smoke
They see the face behind the hands and drift with gravity
I remember the many times I flew alongside another
But they always feathered down...

It’s hard to see through the chalky air, the clouds are deep
I fly higher, but the air becomes no more than a single thread
So hard to breath, but the angry clouds grow thicker
I can’t go higher, but below means to suffocate …

Keep holding on…