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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required if my lungs were unable to inhale the air from exposure of rottenness, let me speak while confessing about how the smell is. i have to describe the air circling through my body, and how it aches my insides. the air is the same with my body— how it flows freely through the bodies of matter. with just a touch of sensitivity, the air results in being confused and wanders. curiosity of the particles will kill its own habitat, leading it to blend after a while it won't fade away, but rather collides with the moving wind. really, you can't distinguish the air that makes it unfamiliar in the first place, and while it's still sitting on the current, while nothing seeks to damage you. once you breathe in it, there's no environment for you to feel comfortable. your lungs are filled with the air dependent on what it's been huffing and puffing. you suffocate: feel out of breath, for just stepping out of your place. how can i know that the air i'm breathing is the drug i'm taking? how can it be a drug? it will crave you. the only way to get out of it is to chase for it. to still grab the oxygen that's always been crashing you. the odor will take you out, and it also makes you feel better— not because you're the one inhaling it, but because you're already engaged with it. but if you don't inhale, you already know you'd die through suffocation. it was the very best thing to do for you to live— to rather be with it than to die in it. the other parts of you are surely terrified by your welcoming attitude. are you sick to enter such cruelty inside your body? or maybe you're just dying to know how sick it is to feel alive? you will feel the decay of your internal system, it will cause you to function slowly, to pant unsteadily instead of just breathing, but look at you starting to inhale the air you think is fresh, yet somehow eats your flesh whole.
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