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Breathing

by Mackenzie.m

Breathing it’s a rhythm. In and out, in and out. They say slower, but it just didn’t feel right. Like I can slow down in out in out in out. My heart races with the speed to my breathes, almost like my lungs are going to stop working. A weird thing breathing.

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Comments (3)

cecilymock
<p><span style="font-family: &quot;DM Sans&quot;, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">I have felt this way too! Your exploration of anxiety through the physical act of breathing creates a powerful sensory experience, reminiscent of Sylvia Plath&#39;s &quot;I Am Vertical&quot; in its examination of bodily rhythms. The repetition of &quot;in and out&quot; mirrors the very breath pattern you&#39;re describing, creating a visceral effect similar to what Allen Ginsberg achieved in his stream-of-consciousness work. Your observation of the disconnect between what others advise (&quot;They say slower&quot;) and your lived experience shows deep self-awareness, while the final line&#39;s simple profundity (&quot;A weird thing breathing&quot;) echoes William Carlos Williams&#39; ability to find wonder in the ordinary.</span></p>
ommetaphobian
<p>cheeks</p>
Jtay
<p>I like your poem. I&#39;m a quadriplegic paralyzed from the neck down and on a ventilator that gives me 14 breaths per minute.</p>

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