Shot down body
littered with undignified holes
the air I raspily drag inside
barely lasts.
Chest so constricted
something big, something heavy
it refuses to expand.
The eyes wish to close
the mind is out of flow
blood seeps from beneath my fingernails
as I dig them into reality
and its infinite expanse.
Head is empty, a vase for flowers
and those can only be watered
by streams of salty tears.
I feel no fatigue
in the cycle
of my constant demise.
Did I tear off my own wings
or did the feathers just fall?
#%$&*!, have belief in me
when I tell you
that I desire to breathe
#%$&*!, look into my eyes
when I struggle
to catch up with your speed
#%$&*!, I think that I am at last
ready to watch you leave
For I seem to have forgotten
that all the dead can do
is sleep.
YOU ARE READING
Mabye if I Fall Asleep I Won't Breathe Right
PoetryRelying on possibility, slumber, and the unknown sweet demise of death. This book is a collection of poems that are unrelated but as a whole struggle to portray the meaning of the title. Through my distorted vision, a lot of things might seem disjoi...
