Frustration.

There is a collective buzzing in your gut.


Strong, tidal current washing over your back
      Your shoulder blades
              Your arms

It culminates with the pulling.
Scrambling for another stone as the pebbles flutter and fall beneath you, into the black hole of nothingness below

                     and you cling to the last precipice of the cliff.

When you let go, you are still reaching - as though someone might reach out and save you - hold your arms, pull you up, grasp you with firm grasp and bring you in to their chest: a savior;
But

                    that

                                       doesn't

exist;
You are only at the edge of your imagination
and the hot tears on your cheeks are proof of your infallible resolve to fail.