At times, I have moments of,
not quite realisation, because
I knew it all along, but,
moments of heavy existence.
When the clouds look like a painting.
Or the sea like a cliff.
During conversations at the office.
If this is real, what isn’t?
Breathing feels unnatural. So
I take an extra deep one and
move my toes in my shoes.
Bite my bottom lip, pause my music.
If this is life, what even is it?
Sometimes I consider telling myself
to shut the fuck up and stop
thinking for just one second. To
live and breathe without thought,
but those trees look strange to me. And
I do not even know what strange
is supposed to be.
Surely curiosity is more productive
than acceptance. Ignorance worse
than questions of our existence. How
we came to be, where we are going. If
we are meant to meet
the people we meet.
How much of living is knowing?
About the Creator
Katerina Petrou
Combining my passions of travelling, food, poetry and photography, I welcome you to read my stories.
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Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
so true. back in 1979, I had a bad reaction to anesthesia and was on a ventilator for 8 hours until my lungs started working on their own again. Since then, I have never taken breathing for granted. Now, I have a heart problem that affects my breathing. Here we go again!