Omlette

Omelette from Madeline Sharafian on Vimeo.

2.22.14

words I like

blue
                       whisper
               

           always

                    starry
                                          crush
                       
                         bulletproof
            mint

                           
                             you
                                 
       

 

a meditation on breathing, in three parts

I wish it were raining. I wish it were raining and I was driving down the highway, wipers fwip-fwipping across the windshield, with a long way still to go. I can only breathe properly in a rainstorm. And it feels like I've gone a long time without any deep breaths—a tight, cracked feeling in my chest. I need some space and time to exorcise the ghosts from my shotgun seat. I need a reason to be alone.

I can't sleep anymore. My mind spins when I lay in the dark, and I end up turning on the light and reading fifteen pages to still my breathing. In the morning, I drink coffee. It makes my hands shake and my heart flutter, and turns my handwriting spidery. 

Driving home this evening, the sinking sun shone warm and orange through the still-bare trees. It sent shadows flickering over my arms. Out the other window, the moon shone through wispy clouds, almost full. I have too much on my mind, but I watched the rose gold spread over the tops of the houses, and was at peace.