Air

[ivan23]

The cube walls seem to be stifling even the free movement of air today. Red-brown as dying wheat, rust-red as drying blood, bulwarks against any kind of meaning or blessings. The sun is at my back, full of promise, through a window I can't see even with the aid of a mirror.

Comments

[torigirl84]

I can't tell you how depressing reading that is.

As I sit in my cubicle. And stare out the window. *sobbs*

[ivan23]

Breathe, breathe. Replace the sobs with rhythm and let the air dance among your lips, your lungs, moving your legs onto another plane where dreams are dances.