My right lung is an orange.

There's something there,
but it's not quite tangible.
A chill in the air, I'm sweating profusely.
There's a man on my chest
and I'm fine for a minute
when someone is talking but not for too long.

It's an abyss. It's a locked cupboard,
I'm trapped in a room
that's so full of air that I'm drowning.

A padded cell. Dark and completely,
totally
safe. No visible symptoms
of the crushing worries in my head.
Just an itching, tossing,
turning in the bed. Maybe I shouldn't
smoke so much
or drink so much
my thoughts are jam and garbage
it's a mess. Shouldn't I be
all better by now?