Arguments With Oxygen

It’s not you, it’s me…

OK it is you, but can you blame me?

You don’t give me room to breathe,

Always there in the air

Never wearing the shapes I draw in you

Or the words I splutter out of my mouth

And whenever I think you’re listening

You blow the wind in my face

So I have to shout over a hurricane

to get a message through to you.

And you elude me in the most interesting places

Where I want you indispensable

Underground, underwater

In space, I have to fill myself with fake you

Just to take in all the beauty.

Personal space means nothing to you

We like to be claustrophobic as a race,

That’s why there’s pollution about the place

Traffic congestion and cigarette indigestion

We’re sick of you being the only option.

Maybe just a day apart,

So we can rethink our relationship

And evaluate why it’s important

To not suffocate trees or factory workers

Citizens of big cities and those wall flowers

That get punched on lunch break.

I’m not calling you selfish

I just could do with one day where you aren’t next to me

Inside me, over my head, under my footstep

Just a little privacy…

OK maybe that’s lunacy,

Just promise you’ll look away when I’m naked…

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