goodnight sweet prince. hello, new york

No sleep 

not a wink 

who could?

Tossing and 

turning across 

my overgrown bed 

heels dangling over 

the edge like remnants

of a snapped rope bridge.

I'm down there

in the abyss 

or I’m about 

to be, because 

tomorrow I’ll become

the prince of falling,

not Icarus, but every 

young person who 

ever took the risk to 

leave their surroundings.

Tomorrow 

I move to New York.

I’m eighteen and baby 

fat eager for anything 

as long as it’s new. 

Will I be found down here, 

at the bottom of this ravine

with minor injuries,

or will I be discovered by 

a lost hiker one day,

a mound of bones 

and dandelions.