The pain has control again-
like usual, there is no known cause for this chaos
no reason you can find in between my fingers
why the regurgitation inside of my throat
escapes like it's a secret barely kept.
The way I am currently is no secret-
though the reasoning behind it is one.
I am a smoking gun
and the only thing I ever aim at
is myself.
Some days I miss-
and the gun does not smoke
everything around me is clear
so I can see myself so much better.
But on most days the smoke
encases my lungs and steals
away every inch of oxygen
from the air around me
and I feel like I cannot breathe
my lungs inflate but I cannot breathe.
I am running around chasing air
that I am not sure even exists anymore
but I know it does,
I can see it all around me
as the breathing of others make me tick
as the rising and falling of chests
makes me feel so ******* nostalgic.
I run as fast as I can in their direction-
but we don't share the same air anymore.
See I am light years away just longing for their lungs.
The trigger finger has stopped pulling
and the smoke seems to fade.
But somehow I still can't breath.
Everything is fine-
but somehow I still can't breath
why the **** can't I breath anymore?
Inhale.
Exhale.
Repeat.
Why are things not changing for me
why are my lungs still crushed under the weight
of all this pressure on top of my shoulders.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Repeat.
Why am I crying over nothing again
why does life have it's hands around my throat
why can't I swallow these pills meant to fix me
and when I do why don't they work for me.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Repeat.
Why is this gun I hold still shooting if the barrel is empty-
why has this smoking gun left me empty
why are my lungs just decoration for a chest that is now empty.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Repeat.
Why am I sitting here crying over a vacant phone screen
and convincing myself of things that aren't even happening.
My shadow has ran away-
it is not capable of keeping up with me
it has found that we no longer share the same outline anymore
for I am just a skeleton, hollowed out and shedding skin
and it is a shape I used to find comfort in-
one I used to know well before my breathing stopped.
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
The words I no longer need-
who needs breathing with a chest full of nothing.