Old House

I feel I could snap my spine in two if I leaned back in a certain way. Applying just the right amount of pressure. I can even hear it. Feel it break. Not the pain, that will always be new to me. As those retarded creatures that are unable to learn by repetition. But I can feel it, as if it weren't my bones but someone else's held firmly by my hands. I can feel it break on my palms. It's such a pleasant feeling. Makes me so aware of life. Reminds me of all that is happening when nothing in fact is. Everything is so exaggerated. Every sound amplified. Like in a big old country mansion, late at night, the house becomes alive. It was of course always living and breathing but only then are you awaken to it. And you must embrace it. As I do. Drink all this life inside life itself. The pounding of the heart, the breathing, the slight hindrance in your breathing pipes provoking the air to whisper a very low almost silent tune through your mouth or nose. I hear my bones wearing out. One more cell dying. My skin recycling itself. I hear it all. I hear me whole. I am alive.