#1
Jealousy is the Doctor's Leech by Daniel West

I wish I could use my jealously to draw out strength,
take the last few drops of blood and form something.
What would God or my Conscience want it to be?
An ageing and obstinate tree in a forest of open ground?
A dying hiker on his last working limb, climbing down?
I have to do something, say something to them both
before I lose what little ground I have left to stand on:
'Are you leading me away because you're happier without me?'

I see them together in the distance, enchanted by one another,
walking the path that goes to the very, very top.
But why would I want to be there, where the clouds are thick and
the air is so thin your thoughts become the earth's?
Where a fall only gets better the closer you get to dying.
It's sixty years in free-fall, my dearest and oldest friends,
sixty years knowing it only lasted a brief moment.
For that top is happiness and happiness has no end.
#2
Im just dropping in to say i really really like this part:

"It's sixty years in free-fall, my dearest and oldest friends,
sixty years knowing it only lasted a brief moment."

i actually like it as a whole as well, but that stood out. my post is pretty much useless otherwise though.
i need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah.
#5
I've never been a revelation of a writer or been able to form anything over-the-top. I am pretty much what you described. So thanks!
#6
I would love you to take a quick look at what i just posted, since youre offering
i need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah.