A microscopic home.

this is a literary blog. i'm literate so i must have something to say. hopefully.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

my chest feels weighted
compressed and all my ribs
are bending and cracking against
each other in an attempt
to breathe.

oh this vessel is falling apart.

I wanted to go to sea
to disappear along the horizon
end in the curve of the sky.

but there is no use.
I am not made to weather
such travels, such adventures.

I am made of soft flesh,
of cotton balls.

I am made of string.


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