Breathing

I sit in my flesh colored room.

My brain is itching

boredom tickling

The clock is making

a humming sound

like a wounded bee.

I think I have nothing to do.

I have so much to do.

Outside the city moans

that it would suck me out there

if I weren't so heavy.

It's shattering my thoughtlessness

with gentle whispers

of collisions and machinations

and holes deeper

than a man's body.

I make my daily promise

I won't betray you.

Each day I betray

to keep the promise going

and each day

I smack

into this world

framed by my eyeball

as each day

rehearses its suicide.