Wondering What Is Expected From Me

Hanging upon a weakening thread.

Preferring an eyeful of grime to your dirty looks. Each moment the weight bears more consequence.

Facing down estimating eternity and waiting to exhale its reality. As the string wears thin my faith sports matching pants. I can count each heartbeat as the break in between grows longer. A doctor wouldn't be this engrossed in anticipating a pulse.

Wondering what other circumstances would make everyday seem so fresh. Most days the lub dub doesn't direct deliberation, but the modern era inspires less creative thinking. Maybe all of life should be this daring. Little things seem so scary lik the subtle tap on my shoulder when I'm absorbed in other expectations.

Enjoying my lack of control. There would be days that my eyes couldn't view the danger that ensues.

Imagining if I had to remember to inhale. The whole idea is at the tip of my tongue. The result of a sudden memory failure would fall fatal.

Dangling with everyone watching. My next move is a little more cautious. One false twist and I risk losing valuable experiences gained.

Sweating the options; live or never have the chance. Either way a gasp is soon forgotten. Which stories are better received.

Losing exhaling aptitude down to one.

Breathing. Okay. Again, good!

Breathing. Great. Again,...