5 views
I’m Living
Sometimes it’s hard to remember I’m living.
When the days go bye so slowly
without that wonderful hint of change,
the once comforting air turns hostile.
It’s stagnant. It’s hard to breathe.
It saps my energy at the same pace
a leaky faucet might drip water.
But my room doesn’t have a drain,
it’s slowly been filled to the brim
with this sour, depressed air.
There is no where I can run, swim, or hide.
I’m forced to marinate in it,
becoming stiff, uninspired, suffocated.
The wretched gas infiltrates my lungs,
and in turn embezzles me with this rotten feeling.
But, every now and then I am able to escape.
On the road, with the fierce wind from the car
ramming into the air before me.
The way the gusts ruffle through my hair,
or how the fresh, clean, alive air
forces its way into my lungs,
reinvigorates me. It cleans my filter.
It reminds me that I’m alive.
And maybe it isn’t all so bad.
© Robert Taylor
When the days go bye so slowly
without that wonderful hint of change,
the once comforting air turns hostile.
It’s stagnant. It’s hard to breathe.
It saps my energy at the same pace
a leaky faucet might drip water.
But my room doesn’t have a drain,
it’s slowly been filled to the brim
with this sour, depressed air.
There is no where I can run, swim, or hide.
I’m forced to marinate in it,
becoming stiff, uninspired, suffocated.
The wretched gas infiltrates my lungs,
and in turn embezzles me with this rotten feeling.
But, every now and then I am able to escape.
On the road, with the fierce wind from the car
ramming into the air before me.
The way the gusts ruffle through my hair,
or how the fresh, clean, alive air
forces its way into my lungs,
reinvigorates me. It cleans my filter.
It reminds me that I’m alive.
And maybe it isn’t all so bad.
© Robert Taylor
Related Stories
