Third Floor Jumper

One room away, the silent house beats 

Windows ajar; it breathes. 

Exercising demons. 

On a late-night jog, the mind wanders, 

Racing on a street once thought about. 

An end of words beckoned breathless remedies. 

A poison consumed, in a grasp of rooftops. 

Separate seas sway, 

Shimmying up to the third floor 

Dumping over balcony. 

Flooded are the spilling omens. 

Splashing tales expressed in direct regression 

Holding back a speech filled, honest. 

Releasing an act held of promise, 

Into the street below. . .

Without a final word.