Bob James


'Breathing' Poem by Bob James


The boredom and stillness of inertia is like hands wrapped around my throat. Squeezing shut the airways, so that the only air I know is the empty air around me. Air that offers me nothing, nor contains anything for my taking, anything of use. Reminding myself to breathe, which in itself has become like a cheap magic trick, yet somehow fooling everyone. Except me.

Submitted: Wednesday, November 27, 2013

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