I have now, because I could die tonight.
Because the city’s shallow breaths contrast the intensity of the air within.
Because I have too much to glare, to bring, to throw.
I carry myself alone in this room. And too much.
As much as I have done.
Trying to clear the air because every fight is a weakness.
I am stronger still.
Even sat alone. Waiting for it all.
I sit, breathing through the circulation, inside
different Ideas about the limits of co-habitation.
I repulse the same air, I give back the carbonic.
It ripples through strings dangling before me, before the night, lacing my perception
Of everything tonight.
They waiver and intertwine against the breathy strength I proclaim.
The fight breaks out from here. I go between myself. And I am beside myself.
A light that struts anticipates and draws me.
As I wait again. Breathing a shallow air.
It performs me.
And even in mystery I have to survive it.