Thursday, January 12, 2012

A Sort of Poem about Breathing and Bad Dreams

Tonight on the train,
I stood next to a man who smelled like a nightmare I had when I was a kid.
I didn't even remember having it until he stood next to me
And suddenly felt waves of fear crashing over me.
I could have moved, but I stood in my spot, tentatively breathing in the memories.
I didn't gulp air, but as his acrid essence entered my nose,
I felt lighter and lighter.
As if the past was fading away with the oxygen as it turned into carbon dioxide and left my body.
I can't remember what the nightmare was about.

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