I often find myself guilty of the sin of taking breath

Cobwebs are my home and I vacation in caverns of broken glass

These shards of sea glass reassure me as they rip me blood from bone

Still, I draw breath like an artist plagiarizing from a museum painting

I will give the lesions a moment to heal before I crack them open once more like the wood of support in a childhood home being rip from board to board

I feel the glass scrape my bones

I held like the world finally took pity on me

A selfish combination of a ribcage and flesh

I am sorry for stealing someone else's breath

For it was never mine to take

But I still adore the sound

Of breathing, of broken glass, of cobwebs

I think this could be my home