Maybe in an alternate universe
An atmosphere exists where fresh
Air moves inside out, smoke particulates
Are replaced with dandelions,
Dandelions remain metaphoric
To beauty, and beauty resonates
With the calm of the ocean during day.
There may exist this universe where
I’m breathing, but I choose not to
Wander off to that other side.
I stay here, with oxygen supporting
My lungs, and ash spilled beyond the
Brim for I no longer bother to
Empty the ashtray;
Feeling as though with every passing
Second the world is closing in on me,
Just by a millimetre more. Yet,
Despite disturbances inside the fissures
On my skin, I have made peace with
The sun, aligned perpendicular to
The highest measurable altitude, by man,
Reflecting back light onto me
Through the moon; the tides
Inside my ribs beating and
Fluctuating.