You could say I forgot how to breathe. How to draw air into the lungs to instill that calm and levelheadedness common to good breathing practices. Pranayama. In what some would call my bad old days, breathing was a significant asset, a carrier for my devices, you could say. I consciously breathed during these days. Sweetness in, sweetness out. Breath was on my mind and deliberately carried out by my body by function of vice. Not so nowadays. Misplaced vice. Gotta relearn. The reeducation of turbinate flow control, the remembering of the curl of air that caresses the alar cartilage. The bellows of the lung faltering in the knowledge it is not like riding a bicycle after a long interval. The sigh of wayward thought manifest in glottal noise. Headstatic begs to be replaced with clear tone of mind, the lungs a gateway regulator in that function. Breath. In. Abdominal. Mouth closed. Surrsurration in the vestibule. Out. Breath. Reflection of cycle of cosmos. The constant myth metaphor of oxygen and carbon dioxide: Phoenix from the ashes. Rexhalacyclatinhalations. Rinhalaticyclexhalations. Please recycle. The tail devouring serpent circle of breath, Ouroboros. The refresh frame rate of the mind multiplied into macro by a factor unknown: Breathertz. Cicadas in the ribcage. Molecular symbiosis of baryonic matters that dance on the subatomic floor of ball bearings. In. Out.