LUNG

he shovels air into the body, because oh he burns. burning but now filling, he heaves himself up larger, into a passageway, wind blowing through like a storm. he grows large, small, he rocks with the need. like wet meat he peels his insides apart to let it all in, as waves of air flood in as if filling a tidal cave. lung. lung. in. out. tension. release. filling. emptying. up. down. rising. falling. empires crawling and spreading like disease in a petridish.. cultures cultured, then, starved, they eat their young. tongues rising and falling, words clashing like swords. time's up. wow, didn't get much out.

i seriously think this sucks, and that writing in the morning, though i want to, is NOT the right time for me to be writing. maybe i'll write about LUNG later as an experiment and see if it goes any better. it really sucks because i used to be such a morning person, now i'm kinda dead in the morning. pity.