The Story of My BreathA Poem by VERONICAI have never been without you. I would feel embarrassed without you. If there ever was a mom4ent that you left me & I fell to the floor as a result & a passerby would compress & kiss you back to me, although you clearly wanted to go, I would feel ashamed.
I used to want to be the best breather, to breathe deeper than anyone has ever breathed before; to breathe so deep that I would rise off the ground just a little bit; to breathe so deep that my exhalations would scrub my vocal chords of all this cigarette smoke; so deep that the sound from my larynx would be identical to the sound of a flushing toilet; so deep that on each inhale I would bulge up, my clothes ripping off my body; so deep that in the club you’d think I was the bass; so deep that you could see my ribs on my back.
I want to go to the deepest levels of breathing as if they were places: hyperventilation in Mexico City, Lion's Breath in South Sudan, sighing in Siberia & Patagonia, Enlightened Breath on Chomolungma's peak. I'd breathe myself to adventures.
I would breathe Disasters. Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Irene & the Japanese Tsunami, all originated from my mouth.
Having inhaled such a quantity of air, My body would have no choice but to enlarge exponentially or explode.
My lungs would become excavation sites, more massive & mysterious than Wind Cave. My trachea would expand to the width of a smokestack & my esophagus, a thread in comparison.
As the world's best breather, my breath would alter our planet’s motion through space. I’d send us hurtling towards Mars after ricocheting off Venus & jet propel the blue planet into other galaxies.
Naturally, Earth would not hold up. I’d breathe us to apocalypse. But, having grown to the size of a planet, the remainder of the human race would simply fall to my gravity & no one would notice because my fingernails grow at the same rate as the motions of the tectonic plates.
My breath would liquefy. Having breathed so hard my bones & internal organs would disintegrate under pressure. Blood mixing with breath becomes magma forms landforms as it squeezes through orifices & pores. My breath would solidify. & no one would notice my body’s the Earth because my fingernails grow at the same rate as the motions of the tectonic plates. I embody the Earth.
However, Breath, I’ve yet to breathe quite so much. I’ve hardly ever breathed even 1% of all of that. If I tried to breathe so deep would I be powerful enough? If I haven’t extended you before you go would you be disappointed? But, maybe if I did breathe that deep you would tire & leave me. © 2014 VERONICA |
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Added on January 16, 2011 Last Updated on August 19, 2014 Author
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