Breathing

Some days it’s like I can breath.  Really breath.

It’s the mental breaths.  The gentle in and out. Thoughts in. Thoughts out. There’s no thinking.  There’s no inability to think.  There’s no  over thinking

Yet I know it’s temporary. A tease of respite.

A mere crack of light.

So rather than fear the clouds I’ll lay in this crack of light until it fades to nothing. Again. Until I fade to nothing. Again.

Whilst thoughts dance and fall like bubbles, bursting on contact into all of the meaningful colours.

Until they once again they fall in thumps of smothering grey.

I’ll lay here.

And breath.

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