Posted in Poetry


I once listened to every breath, held. Now i don’t listen for a breath, i just breathe.

It never changes, this rush of airless breath, stopped short of living.
It wastes no time, jolting me with a sharp pain.
I sense the offense linger nearby.

I do what i have to to survive.
I’m back home and safe.
I did not pass out. Or lose consciousness.

Absent words express the dire need rising,
from nowhere it entered the room.
It’s not me is it? Who am i anyhow?

Confusion speaking, trapped here, i try to make it right.
Fighting makes it stronger.
I don’t think God will be upset if i sleep it away,
stripping its strength until it vanishes.

2 thoughts on “It

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