The Truth About Breathing

Beware that throwing pebbles
may ripple
the skies
but not shake the monoliths
from down here on
Earth.

They'll make you cry pebbles-
tiny white and smooth rocks.
You'll ache and as they
emerge from you
eyes, leaving a gaping hole
they won't
Trickle down your face,
but smash eternity into the
ground.

I once coughed up a pebble,
but mine was stained with
blood.
It must have scraped an organ, I guess.
There wasn't just one pebble.
I spit out one
and then another, and then another
until I was a mountain of
little white stones.
The forms laughed
and threw vinyl screams at me.
Those forms,
Those faceless, shapeless forms.

I tried to die under the weight
And although my back was
crushed
The pebbles pushed me out.

I crawled under the grey of
light
and saw nothing.
Am I truly blind?
Because I know I'm not dead.