Humidifier

Baby sister’s splintered voice on the other side of the wall.  Rest my head sideways on my forearm and drop my lids down.  Cold humid air from the corner of the room making the pores on my legs rise.  Happiness is breathing in just the right thing.  Try to relax my brain so it doesn’t have to be an accident.  Panic, for me, is breathing in everything at once.  Though, at times, doing so starts me on a roller coaster through both humility and megalomania, both of which quietly inspire me.