They tell me to breathe
But I won't.
I'd rather stand here and suffocate.

Because as they breathe
I inhale –
My eyes are wide open

To the possibilities
Of straightfowards
And plain simples.

Because I don't want fancy
Messing with my simple
And fake-ifying the images
I try to spin.

Because I don't need stringent words of elegance
To make a point so much better received
When the audience understands.

I've asked them
Time and time again:
Why can't simple suffice?

But apparently I need flourishes,
I need strings of words
Dripping with serendipity.

But there is pleasure in simple.
There is thrill in the bare bones
When there is room left
And possibilities scarcely spun
For you to grow your own.

So they tell me as they close their eyes
And slowly, oh so slowly
Breathe in the sweet, pungent air:

That I need to breathe like them.
I need to create like them.
I have to change for them.
But I won't.
I'd rather stand here and suffocate.
It's as simple as that.