I can't breathe when it gets like this;
when everything around me blurs
and his voice - too smooth like guitars,
and I giggle to relieve the stress of
all these silences that make no sense to
me. Bent beside someone broken, asleep
in a bed that grew around ivy until
everything else withered away into bibles,
and sermons, and summaries, and you!
And things truthfully untrue like a sickness
spreading on the wind; air and smoke
(the joke) of trying to live between the two.