The Inhale

My lungs are so full of that which
should not even fit through a straw
The claggy cravings of life that
suck you deep and spit you out
With each new breath you’d think it would
get easier but that mother has a way
of making you forget that each waking day
You are building yourself and
paving a way out of a mess
that you would not even be in
would you have stopped for a second
to look at your wrists and
see that they’re clean
Not veins arranged into lines
that form letters and letters to words
A search history giving logistical tips
on how to die of your own accord

I know that it’s dark but how much do you see?
How’s it working for you
to stare at a screen
and watch
a spinning wheel
and wait
for a message to send to someone
who doesn’t know and cannot begin to
imagine the pain that this person is in?

Just go about your life because
you have to, and
don’t regret but don’t forget
The mark that you left
And the two you almost made
And still could
While it turns in your chest like
A tumbleweed
A washing machine
Or an awful crystal ball

So, to myself
and to them both
I say
Take caution and


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