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Click hereevery breath seems ragged,
dragged into my body,
my throat constricts
to block the pain of living from my lungs...
vision a constant blur,
faces inconsistent,
colors run together,
as I try to stare through unshed tears…
words trip and fall,
diving to the floor,
half-completed thoughts,
and silence punctuated with a sigh…
the momentary struggles,
forcing each heartbeat,
aware of the involuntary,
of the agony of rushing blood…
until the second passes,
I look away,
gather my strength,
and manage another breath.
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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Assuming we're speaking of cigarettes here, it's not the breathing that's the problem but the eating. No nicotine to suck on and you need something to munch on. It's the oral 'fix' that must be fixed.
Assuming we're speaking of cigarettes here, it's not the breathing that's the problem but the eating. No nicotine to suck on and you need something to munch on. It's the oral 'fix' that must be fixed.