Is there a poetic image more cliche than breathing?
This, yes. There’s nothing it’ll convey but breathing.

Heartbeats’re freezedried. Digestion’s canned.
No basic function’s any more gourmet than breathing.

Our understudy might do. We’re easy to act out.
Only thing they have to learn to portray is breathing.

Every known victim runs faster than the fugitive
who abused them. They’ve come to prey on breathing.

Whatever stops, whatever starts, all’s gone digital.
Properly wired, any moment’s passe as breathing.

We tried your lover out, hoping for new ideas.
His or her notion of wildly risque is breathing.

Our strength’s mostly back, our balance, our counts,
so what’s keeping us off running a 10k is breathing.

One in seven is drowning. Love itself gets
unnaturally hard. As much so, say, as breathing.





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