Hey folks, here's a poem I wrote yesterday (the 30th of April; GWAH, I can't believe it's already May!!!!). Enjoy!
The Atmosphere Inside
What is breath, that it should determine life?
And why, between lattes and over textbooks,
do we josh about how we've lost ours?
I spill my soup & sandwich over the floor,
you drop a napkin and bend your knees,
and suddenly we're fighting for air?
Is there not enough in the world for
7 billion people? Why am I straining?
Don't intoxicate me by sharing O2 gas,
I can survive off of another nitrogen mix,
Yet so it seems, the atmosphere of
communal life insists we must inhale,
And in that incredibly animalistic act,
We are all one. What was in you is now in me,
is now in them:
Preacher, teacher, skydiver, massage therapist,
ex-con, bridesmaid, grocery assistant,
skinhead, lawyer, clown, professor.
"I love you" exhaled,
50 yrs later inhaled, "Declare war."
Signed with my toothbrush,
News: Since April of last year I have managed to accomplish several monumental things in my studies, but I update you now to tell you that three nights ago I had the best sleep since I last visited my aunt's house (years ago) and probably will never have another good sleep like it for years to come *nods sagely*.
--12 March 2017 --
Quote: I really dislike how glasses slide down your nose impetuously when you're glaring down at your unfinished work. -Me