there are two ways to breathe.
one is through the splinters.
the carved out,
thickly bleeding
respiratory tract
receding.
a futile attempt to enjoy the air
blown over like
a house with
no foundation.
the other is to
close your eyes.
and hope
that the hurricane
does not
cut off oxygen.
because
nirvana
is not a choice.
it is an island
somewhere deep in the ocean
waiting to be discovered.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
there are two ways to breathe.
one is through the splinters.
the carved out,
thickly bleeding
respiratory tract
receding.
a futile attempt to enjoy the air
blown over like
a house with
no foundation.
the other is to
close your eyes.
and hope
that the hurricane
does not
cut off oxygen.
because
nirvana
is not a choice.
it is an island
somewhere deep in the ocean
waiting to be discovered.
Request permission to use this poem