D.N.A.

my breath becomes a secondary attempt at the love we all know as a way to speak to one another again the trees wonder with new feet on better soil whilst laughing and as the cacti that makes us breathe air should give an old perspective that should mean a bit about how we became easy yet our shooting forward parfait of life needs a 200 story building to show ridiculously how the best structure is man's other than the meaning of 23 chromosomes alleles and allegorical myths should mean more than this and if somehow my breath should become glass and steel and platininum as if our feelings towards one another were manmade beginnings of empathetic hospitalization towards a plastic bandage newly created and then placed over a faked-out-sterile-presence thereby reaching for a god that states everything except for the fact that i miss you and want you right here and now in the midst of my genome soul