...


"I feel my breath count depleating.
Short gasps are becoming frequent these days.
Looking around me I'm intoxicated by this race,
Such bodies of ceaseless cruelty.
If not from one, then from another.

My breath slips me again.
My bruised rib, caused by my scratching panic,
Reminds me of why I cannot stay.
The thought of survival sickens me,
For I know what's to come in the days that follow.
The thought of death sickens me,
For I know the worth I should be holding onto,
But I let go of those hands
A long time ago.

For every question goes unanswered,
I lose my breath to speak.
For every question that craves entrance to an ear,
I hold my breath.
For every question that is answered,
I lose my breath to speak.
For every question that is asked,
I hold my breath.

My every breath is fresh,
Cool and desired.
But every breath I take,
Is contaminated by the poison.

It enters my veins.
Turning the red to blue and the blue to green,
In the end I will always tell the same black lie:
"I am fine" "