I think-

-my lungs

are suffocating me from inside,
swelling when I look at you,
beating their fists when you speak.

I think-

-I am

crashing into this feeling
like an airplane in love with gravity.

My heart and liver take up square-dancing,
an internal tribe of wildebeests rampages through
my intestines.

I think-

-I should

breathe more.

~Quick, say something clever~
        

 My lungs dip in and out of the air in shallow strokes.