Breathe In: A Poetry Collection by Ariele A LACK OF MOMENTOUS PRESERVATION this sedation I allow myself to drift into; it could wake death with a mere pin-prick or casual disturbance, it could scream with a whisper, it could frown through a laugh; so acidic, this lack of momentous preservation, edges serrated, ripped through a memory I live, repeat, rewind, retry, retract, regurgitate, vomit, swallow, spit, THROW AWAY; replay, replay, replay, the story, it always ends on the same page a remembrance of two bitter pills sliding down wrong the right way. THE ARTIST bleed. bleed. and bleed. does it still taste like escape? that vengeful razor sliding, piercing your ample skin. does it taste like release? one shade, twelve vertical designs. or does it feel like the morning after; (mourning your death) you stained those pale sheets crimson; and the note on the table, it simple said: "This is my idea of art." COLOR-COORDINATED her wrists crimson red the same shade as her acrylic nails; the same shade as the velvet lining her coffin. she had always been color-coordinated. EXHALE huge clouds surround me as i exhale another month off of my life. BREATHE IN, BREATHE OUT clouds quickly billow behind thin glass piping that is only my best friend one day a week. and i breathe in your dream-to-death destruction until my insides are comfortably filled to full capacity. and i breathe out clouds of cotton candy poison that causes my vision to remind me of the frequent days when the mountains disappear behind thick layers of air pollution that settles in layers inside this inland pocket that i am trapped inside, and slowly yet surely deteriorating within. breathe in, breathe out. if the pollution-drenched air does not kill you, you'll find something that will. « BACK |