I count everything. Even numbers, odd numbers, multiples of 10. I count the ticks of the clock i count the tocks of the clock I count the lines between the lines on a sheet of...

You thought you had the choice to stay still or move forward, but your didn’t. As long as your heart kept pumping an your blood kept blowing and your lungs kept filling, you didn’t. The...

Without purpose and meaning in our lives, we banish ourselves to wander this plane of existence with self-destructive tendencies until the bell tolls and our breath capsizes in our lungs, snatching our chance to redeem...

Lift up your arms, then, and I’ll slip it on.” I did. But instead of slipping it over my arms, it was himself he slipped between them. He kissed me in the hollow of my...

Kitu cha kwanza kufanyika mwanadamu anapozaliwa ni kuvuta pumzi ya kwanza katika mapafu ya mwili wake. Cha mwisho kufanyika kabla ya kufa ni kutoa pumzi ya mwisho katika mapafu ya mwili wake. Pumzi iliyoingia kwanza...

My next breath may very well be in your lungs. Store it wisely, because my life depends on it.

There are no lungs like the ones that breathe poetry.

I’ll steal bodies, not to be Corporal Corpse, but to have access to a never-ending supply of laughter still left over in their lungs.

An oppressive odor of decay now mingled with the stench of mold and seemed to clutch at the very breath in their lungs.