FRESH

FRESH air long lost now inhabits, fills my oxygen deprived lungs, empty space that makes me whole yet without it I had grown though not adapted, about to give in to a miserable existence where it’s not possible I BREATHE. Far from done is this anguish, for it lives within, an avid player of hide and seek but I’m not fooled though i wish. Far from perfect- I admit my life is in pieces and cutting me so I hurt, so I bleed. Far from grace- too far gone in this rabbit hole I learned to to live in (or something resembling it). Anxiety still drowns me but I can swim -awkwardly- get some FRESH air before I’m pulled under again. My rage and self hatred go on a date, at least giving me a break for now. My mind close to quiet, allowing me to speak and think. I missed this bit of OK so long past due. I can’t pinpoint what OK is: but I can feel it, it is fresh and almost new… a coat of fresh paint for these horror primed walls. A FRESH breeze caresses my skin, tickles my curiosity as I feel the wet heat.

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