Have you ever noticed how a jelly fish breathes?
The collection of lifts and descends?
Fall and rise?

Push and pull.
Push and pull.

With her elegant arms and hips all so refined,
A hypnotic beauty she casts.

Push and pull.
Push and pull.

She floats.
Pink smolder on a crystal cerulean pool,
She stunning.
Abruption the rhythm my heart.

Push and pull.
Push and pull.

Her body strokes a depressed, cobalt, canvas.
A strong silver paint brush.
An array of crimson ginger and scarlet inhalation.
She has become art.
Rephrase; artist.
This amiable jellyfish.

Push and pull.
Push and pull.

She be required to use her entire body as use of lungs.
To circulate.
To survive.

Push and pull.
Push and pull.

Her sapphire oil malformed inestimable dark.
And suddenly,
It’s all pungent.
She’s choking…
Along lack of life line.

Push…and pull..
Push…and pull..

In haste,
With every one breath;
Pain.
Her body lays ache to breathe.
To respire certainly.
Lacking purity.
She will drown in sorrow.
She will drown in effluence.

Push…..pull……
Push…..

Her pace becomes retarded.
Slowing.
Silently screaming.
Calling.
Silently crying.
Tears fall similar to her millions of arms.
Arms with open stretched fingers…

Sensationless.
She lacks blissful love.
Agonizing hate.
She lacks taste.
She lacks all emotion.

She is dead.
Indeed.
Falling. Not rising.
Descending. Not lifting.
Her endless canvas ocean enveloping her entirely.

The breathe of a jellyfish.
She needs to endure.
To move.
To react.
To eat.
To sleep.
To sex.
To love.
To live.
To own life.

Without transparency…
Clarity…
Purity…
She suffocates.