they say “it’s not that deep.” chill. relax. calm down. take a deep breath. but what if it is that deep & i can’t breathe & the air is clawing at my lungs like expired chloroform drowning me from the inside. what if the world doesn’t just spin to satisfy equilibrium & it tilts like a god drunk on the mistakes of mortals. what if i don’t give a damn about your life & your daughter’s life & your daughter’s daughter’s life, paper dolls folded & passed down & down. because we were born in viridity, choked by artificial lights with air smelling of envy & evaporated dreams. they told me to take a deep breath, but i never got a breath of fresh air—it was too tainted with the taste of blood.