Thursday, 24 November 2011


I forget to breathe sometimes.

My heart turns to stone,

my shoulder to rock.

Thing I take little breaths

but nothing melts.

My brain becomes magma with

the speed of the thoughts rushing.

My eyes won’t look up,

but they turn to water.

I make my chest big,

filling it with air.

But I’m still stone.

I’m still rock.

I’m still magma.

I’m still water.

I want to be soft again.


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