the jump [automatic writing]

the moment you step off the cliff and feel yourself drift into a pile of empty beneath you you lose the fright and the anticipation of what was to come, what is coming now, and you don't fear it, you don't feel it, you just are it. You don't want it and you don't wish for it to stop it just is, it is just there and you are just here and you don't know how it happened and you don't care. It's like the moment after orgasm and your head is empty and you are floating but not really floating just existing but not even that and not even breathing because you took in a sharp breath just before and you can't let it out now, now can you? No you can't think to do anything and your head is just black -- not soot black or ash black or bad black, just empty black, transparent black. And if every moment could just be this moment then you could be so different, you could be so free, you could be so anything. But you hit the water or the ground or whatever's beneath you and it's over. You're gonna have to climb back up if you want that moment again.