The History of Sentiment
tapping on the bottom of the chair,
hoping for an alteration of essence
strictly of the background noise
withstanding only what i can hear
i endured a barrier around a chasm,
one within my body,
to which the walls are water
and the center is my breath
i may drown for the recklessness of my visits,
on red pluses and shimmering silver
a peculiar feeling where i dont do much
and everyone else does
its much like living in a tomb
how of course i would never know,
i have never lived in a tomb,
but something tells me its not far away.
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