like a feather in a vacuum

Currents tip-toe into crevices of cartilage
speaking in tongues that swirl against
ear drums, generating the most vivid
stillness resonating a thousand times
trapped in amber ear wax.

The doldrums smack me into pixels
144p shadows follow the feet that hardly
ever leave the gravity in concrete, but
breaths of oxygen are hardly noticeable
until someone points out your breath stinks.

Does the air ever question the way it sounds
like self conscious humans whom were once
told they were monotone?
Sound of air melts into noise pollution, can’t tell differences between police sirens and civilian execution, drowned out by atmosphere.

In the eyes of modest storms,
I take off my jacket letting the puddles walk over me
the wind chimes speak at the frequencies of hurricanes,
clouds spit on my face, mocking me like the miniature
tornadoes, gusts of leaves, once chased during recess.

The westerlies slap me into submission,
like a feather in a vacuum, there I am back into
fourth dimensional reality, as the sighs of the ether exit
the opposite side of my wind tunnel,
I have become stranded as the draft from open windows abandons me.


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