Shallow breathing awakens the earthquakes inside you.
Bones shattering, muscled bleeding as if in a vaccume.
There's not enough space for your lungs to work properly, and
the hinges to yourself loosen and rust over, as
your body doubles forward; being pitched into the dark
with momentum of the S-wave riding on your shoulders.
A vacency sign now hangs on your motel window, asking
passerbys to fill this room you created; with a crescendo as moving as a fault line,
just for them.
