I'm glad I live in an average place
So that I can keep my breath
Who cares about the lack of sights
If my lungs keep me from death
And sure it's not quite pretty
But there's certainly some charm
To back up quiet living
Without tracheal alarm

I can’t gain any weight,
I will never like my height,
I won't look in my mirror,
Cause there's bound to be,
This boy who's so incomplete.

Phasing in and out,
Picking at the yellow grout,
Taking a bite of raw trout,
Inside my tub, my hideout.

Sometimes I feel so real,
Other times I’m Saint Gabriel,
Sending letters out my tracheal,
The atoms of mine wholly immaterial.

Befriending a nightmare or two,
They are my disappearing purple glue,
Holding the sole of my irreplaceable shoe,
The padding inside is sky-blue powdery mildew.