My Words

KNIVES

Pale walls suffocate me. As I sit in this room, I listen to the delicate slander of your breath. Your breath, like a metronome for my lungs. In... out. You remind me to breathe. Breathe! Such a simple act, of which I cannot master. To breathe or not breathe that is the question. At times, I feel as though I have conquered the gift of breathing. But, alas, it will leave me. As reminisces begin to flood back like tidal waves, I neither inhale nor exhale. As breath becomes sparse I often maintain a state of hyperventilation in an attempt to trap air in my lungs. Every time, I fail. I fail. All because of these memories...

You call me. Softly. Slowly. As your golden core so flickers, so too doth my restraint. The holistic glow of your surface would have been perfection, if not for the satanic ditch which retains your purpose. Created for good, my mind can only summon the thoughts of which you incardinate. Ill fortune shall fall on the poor imbecile who's hubris allows them to possess you. Or rather you possess them - for their conscience shall here forth be infatuated by your presence. You will incardinate their pleasant thoughts sinful. You will morph their euphoric idylls into dystopia. You will extinguish all serendipitous theologies. They say we are all born in sin and shaped in iniquity, however you are the definition. Your alter-ego has forsaken you...and so will I. For you are an evil, wicked entity; ruthless in your acts. You are unsavoury and unrighteous. You are...

Breathe. In...out. I will learn how to breathe. Although so help me, if I hear an utterance of apologies, I will avenge thee. No more sounds. symphonies of sympathies; I do not want your courteous apologies. I want empathy. I want love. I want peace.

I just want to breathe.

~By Flow3try