Laborious Breathing Tells Its Own Tales

I
i tell the story
in the cold air
warm oxygen from my own blood- i bleed to breathe
i expel it- my being entire!
like frosty expiration
that slips between my lips
O-
the words dance from my grasp

no breath is my own
from tasting of cord umbilicalis
     to wasting away
as the forming of my mouth in womb
is my mind formed by the world
     as my mother still hungered
     though i filled her abyss
does the universe fill me
yet i do not full understand

all we breathe is recycled
changing carbon that stays the same
thinking, opinion, saying-
the only originality
is veracity

II
a brimming cornucopia
i offer you my potent fruit
pick and choose!
i give you my field
meaning is yours to harvest

a pomegranate breast
i offer you my life long labour
feed on me! pick out my seeds!
but carefully so
rape does not elicit love

III
breathing in-
lungs fill with atmosphere
     air is not clay to dapple with
     air is not art in which to delight
     air is reality
and bravery is breathing out-
with eyes wide open