Slipping

I like to think that these dreams I'm having
Ones about jumping off rocky cliffs into cloudy coastlines
Using my algae-coated hands to climb back up them
Shivering with the bone-deep cold of winter saltwater
Are signs of hope for tomorrow but honestly I'm at a loss
I'm doing better than I was a week ago and every day is another step up
But I never know, I never know
How long it'll be until my hands are too slippery to hold on to the basalt shoreline