to prevent asphyxiation i breathe only water

it makes my lungs soggy like fingertips in a bath
and it’s hard to get a good breath from a water fountain
but the library has showers for that girl who should have dropped a class
if i inhale to the capacity of my ribs i can sit in the front row
so long as i don’t smile
(there are cracks between our teeth after all)

holding one’s breath for hours has serious side effects. A lack of focus that shouldn’t be funny.
i hallucinate the boy with the red hair behind me notices my earrings match my socks
and that the clock towers sing an off-key almost-melody every fifteen minutes
i would sing along except of course that would kill me.

(i would drown in reverse, my puffed cheeks would stick to my skull like a wet t-shirt, and as my precious water leaked from my nose, ears, throat, eyes, I’d have just enough time to squawk a wonderfully wet note before the stagnant air would slip up my nose like a fish hook and dry each of my veins to blood dust)
in my own bathroom with bright green tiled floors that make me feel like i’m in a meadow of invisible poison poppies, i exhale the vapor left behind, it’s frigid from waiting

I zip open my waterbed and climb inside. a smile splits my face with violent uncertainty and no water spills from the gaps between my teeth. I pluck a few strands from my scribbled hair and taste, but I decide to shatter my glasses and eat the frame instead.