Skyscraper

A mocha swirl prancing on my tongue
Lips chapped and cracked like novelty wineskins, smooth as porcelain
My glazed orbs surveying the hypnotic view from atop this alluring tower
Carelessly swinging my legs- without the least of concerns-above dastardly devoid space.
Here I am seated, perched in fact, on this building, this not-exactly-hollow structure
Palms scalded against the scorching asphalt
The overbearing kaledioscope of sunbeams traversing across my sun-kissed flesh
Cheeks flushed a delightful rosy hue; and soon, that mocha aftertaste
Is extinguished in the most "holy" drought, carving through my throat
In inspiring arcs of snow-fire, tongue's of metaphorical liquid nitrogen searing through veins.
Another swig of the flask, so very tipsy, vision woozy as if in a facade of bubbles
And then the giggles erupt in a prone fit, diaphragm muscle hysterically contracting
Hiccuping a bitter revolt and snickering to flush out the melancholia.
"Seven seconds- t'is all, t'is all!" I slur incoherent thoughts,
As estatic as a jubilant child on their grandest birthday
Soon to weep iridescent gems of liquid clarity, dwindling away
Unless, of course, I opt for code-name Mayday
And jump.