She breathes oddly: like she needs to get the breath in but it doesn't matter that it's there once it's there. Get the air in, but whether it stays or goes is no business of hers.
Sometimes I'm afraid she'll treat me the same way. Draw me, reel me, lure me, bait me, catch me. But who cares what happens once she has me? Then the feeling of panic subsides and I feel safe again.
The best part of being me is that I'll be afraid again within a week.
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I see you decided to post something that lives up to your subtitle.
ReplyDeleteBreath is necessary for life, and that fact, in connection with this, bothers me one minute and reassures me the next. And then, of course, I hear Sherlock saying "Breathing is boring," like it ends the argument.
Hm. Am I necessary for life? Like breathing?
ReplyDeleteI really don't think you want me to answer that.
ReplyDeleteIf one draws in breath indifferently, is one inviting death or transcending it?
That question begs to be ignored.
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