I don't know

Better than breathing at least I'm not heaving or cleaving my desire to live. Ponder and wander if not sitting and sulking. I'd rather equal measures of both. The land, sea, and air I miss when in thought. Trapped in the cycle of consciousness, a curse and a blessing. Between worlds I remain, a statue of porcelain I'd like to be. A figure out of view yet a peacock I'd love to become to have all eyes on me.