and what is a shape
when everything’s fake
isosceles,
i can’t breathe
one thing having athsma taught me
is the shape of a ribcage
when i saw it on screen
it was bad enough for x-rays

Suffocating beneath a tidal wave of feelings —
struggling to stay afloat, gasping for breath.

My lungs are heavy filled with so much water;
I may swallow my pride — but I can't hold
these tears anymore in my chest.

anger has always been a strand in my DNA.
i inherited this from my father.

it lives buried deep in my chest.
i feel it slightly when i breathe.

a constant throb,
a pit, inside my lungs.

i feel this rage so deeply,
i am used to its presence.

i do not know what it would be like to live without it.
to breathe without it.

We look at the sky
peering up beyond
beyond the last birds seeking home
and the last rays of sun sinking behind the clouds
but generally we see nothing
it takes complete darkness
to really see what lies
in the ******* beyond
but even then we forget
the millions of miles separating
us and the stars
twinkling almost sadly in the distance

We are made of stardust
yes, that is true
basic elements connect us all
in hues of an artist's color wheel
but why do we acknowledge
something so far
when we are really more like what is right beneath our feet

Dirt
overlooked but completely necessary
allowing us to exist in our natural form
something we touch
and through that touch
we feel the energy of the world

Flow

flowing like the blood through our veins
flowing like the river down a mountainside
flowing like the song out a bird
like the ocean 'round a great whale
like the air into our lungs
like the tears from our eyes

just like the feelings from our hearts

my first step cracked the ground like phyllo pastry / alarms pierced through dense air that struggled to reach my lungs / massive acrid pills fell from the darkening sky / inching closer to me with every second / as if the world was demanding for me to swallow them / my body absorbed lightning faster than it could ever charge through the sky / my heart seized with every glance / so I kept my eyes downcast / settling on a strong smooth obsidian / that rested below the ground / tremors overtook my hands / and I leaped onto the stone.

Sometimes she blows
Cigarette smoke
In your face and
You call that love
Not because it is
But because
You want it to be

You're so ******* lonely
So ******* unable
To handle the
Ocean roar in your
Ears when you're alone

You tell yourself
That the ash in
Your lungs is
As good as
A kiss good night.

Skin on soil - I sink
My lungs a network of roots,
I breathe with the leaves.