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.


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