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Mar 2018
I imagine god’s fingertips to be the size of every broken bone I haven’t tried to fix,
When he died he took all of it with him,
and when he came back three days later,
he became heartbreak,
a martyr of sorts, if you will,
And every time I try to talk to him, he is too tired to respond,
but I do not blame him,
he is doing his best

My grandmother’s lungs gave up on her and collapsed into dust like they once were before all of this,
like all of ours will do some day on a hill of a million sunsets,
where every broken bone will no longer need surgery,
and every bursted vein will bleed into a thousand different eternities

I promise myself that one day I will walk this world over and not stop until everything is on fire, and everyone is crying over someone else,
and I will slip into every crack and crease that my toes feel,
and I will love it and I will die for it,
Just  like how I have loved them and I have died for them,
for as far back as I can remember

the sun always reminds me of someone else,
and the problem with it is that I’ve never looked at the sun and thought about myself,
I have been too busy writing my own obituary onto every inch of my body,
so when they find me suffocated under a pile of my own traffic jams,
they will know how I ended up here,
because god knows that I won’t

I have been too busy filling my bones with gasoline,
so that when they break, you will be able to set them on fire,
I don’t want to be cremated, I just wanna burn out of here,
I don’t want to be put into the ground because cemeteries seem like our way of never ever being able to let go of what is able to **** us

We are all made of iron in some way,
I have bad days some days,
On good days I am sleepy in a lustful way,
And on bad days I am tired in a jealous way,
I’m not saying I’m unstoppable,
but if you catch me under the right light,
I might just seem that way

I’m not sure where I came from,
or where I’m going,
but all of us, you, me, everyone here,
we are all going,
and we won’t stop,
never stop, never stop,
We will go on forever and ever,
even after we think we can’t anymore

Until the angels hang us up by our shoulders and personally read us all of the sins we’ve committed over our lifetimes,
And our grandpas tell us the last stories they can remember from the great war,
And our skin shrinks itself until the only thing we have left to feel is absolutely everything,
all at once,
all the time

So while we continue to walk this wide world over,
until we grow so exhausted that every breath we take seems like fire coming out of the mouth of every honest person that has ever told us a lie,
We need to realize that our jobs consist of nothing besides simply breathing,
Simply breathing,
Deep breath in, deep breath out,
Deep breath in, deep breath out

Take it slow,
Become comfortable, whatever comfortable means to you,
Take a warm shower,
Make yourself clean,
Wash away all of the ugly you think you have left in your skin,
Deep breath out,
Deep breath in

Breathe
Richie Vincent
Written by
Richie Vincent  21/M/Dayton, OH
(21/M/Dayton, OH)   
  2.5k
       winter sakuras, Isla and laura
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