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Evan Stephens Jan 26
Plastic sarcophagus aspect
of the breathing machine -
feed it broken foam
to make me free.
Paper sound lung,
a landscape of coral,  
tape the needle down -
we don't get many kids here.
My blood wandered
to another face -
my chest a kennel.
What's yours is
never wholly yours.
Deep revision of an old poem
Lakshita May 2020
Me and the inhaler,
Go hand in hand.

Neither I nor him,
Can exist without another.

Am I suffering from the insomnia?
Or is it just the absence of him?

Wandering whole night,
Just one thought in mind,
"Only if I had him by my side."
Life without an inhaler is tough.
Mrs Timetable Jan 2020
I love Fall time

I love the colors

We came to be an official couple in the Fall

But I almost died

In the Fall as well

That day had so many things, smells, places

You saved my life twice

I was thinking of the way
the air felt today

How it reminded me of Fall

Then all I wanted to do was cry

I believe you and I both
have PTSD from it

Just each is different

I get that ugly feeling everything will be
taken away from me

Now I understand why
Orion Sep 2019
But oh,
How would my chest feel if it caved in on itself?

The sheer overwhelming feeling of falling,
stomach lifting into my ribcage, lungs into my mouth

How would it feel if it all came out at once,
If I enveloped myself, starting at the throat
I’d get such a sick pleasure
knowing that the blood in my veins rushed to my ears as I ran my hands through my scalp and have them land on my throat
I don’t want to breathe,
I want to be light headed and miles away from a betraying body

A pipe to run through the top of my hip bone,
run a fishing wire through it to catch the cares I once gave
I want a pile of bricks to smother the bones below my breast

Cut my spine clean in half and
I’ll marvel at the sky above me and
I’d never move from that spot

Leave me to stare and stare at a sky that’s as unforgiving as the passage of time
Letting my skin turn to leather and my blood to rust

I’d smile as grass grew through the holes in my ribcage
I’m part of something larger than I am,
a body that experiences death in its own time–
What an adventure it is to rot as I live!
Orion Sep 2019
Biting bitten lips

Your body is inescapable and a temple all in one

Can you believe the smiles that crack the dried skin held together by saliva, courage, and mediocrity,

You lay in bed with a lead pipe feeding through your lungs

You breathe as mucus drips, a soft echo inside the metal,

Stale granola crumbs still sit upon your nose and you don’t have the energy to swat them away like flies upon rotting fruit

You’ve become too sweet, too weak

Your skin bruising without warning

You love the strange lingering pain but you wish you could tap at it with the exhausted arms at your sides

I’m sorry but you’re left to feel as big as you are, taking the space you have claimed

I know you want to feel small, but if you do that, you may not wake up

Let yourself heal in the space you are given so you can shrink when the time calls for it
Munia Islam Oct 2018
Do you ever feel asthmatic?

Not in a physical way but a mental one.

Like the lungs of your heart are bursting with air but you still can't breathe.
Like you have a lot to say but no words to put it in.
Like you want to pull your hair and scratch your skin but all you can do is stare.

Do you clench your fists hard then? And grit your teeth harder?

Do you feel your eyes popping out of their sockets?

Do you get goosebumps then?

Because, I do.

Almost too often.

(M.I.)
clem turner May 2018
i can't believe i'm still around.
i'm pretty sure you don't need me here anymore.
but we're watching tv programs with the lights off.

is it toxic if i'm self assured,
that leaving me will happen when you're bored?
is acceptance still a stage of grief?
because it's getting really hard to breathe.

an emotional asthmatic person in your room
his inhaler helps by saving you.
if he panics, grab his arms and scream
by passing out, he'll finally get some sleep.

if he panics, grab his face and yell,
by passing out, he'll finally get some help.
Justin Chinyere Mar 2018
Freezing causes wheezing,
Leaving leaf spores breeding down my trachea,
Allergens spin n turn sharply attacking the tools that physicalise my life with its ins and outs
Oh 2 see oh 2 breathe oh 2 feel free from the obstructions that structure my schedule to be dormant
Walk up the stairs hold on to the side "are you ok?" No Annie in sight,
Just I, end
is nigh
I roll my knuckles and pinch my palms
Shouldve cut my nails, shot shoots up my arms.
I knock 3 times on the bannister,
I Commit to it being my balancer
Eyes leaking, chest croaking
tight feeling  like I'm choking
Gasping hurts but needed to soothe the need of a response

"I'm fine, just a bit chesty"

Don't ask any more or i can get tetchy

Lecture me on meds im taking
if my rooms tidy or am i forsaking,
still smoking? buffing and *******  that sweet foam **** till it turns hard and golden tarred like caramel muck.  
Just my luck that the something that makes me feel at ease can send me bending to my knees
not for pleas
But to construct a wheeze
Leaving me
Starting every sentence with please,
help me.
Don't even know what im pleading to
Or Who is listening to the self harmer
With a clear thought that I deserve to be preserved and cured of this karma
Inherited from my grandfather which I didn't know until I was told to ask my mother.

Ask ma

She knows about your Asthma.

She's a self destructor
well known for being a self wrecker
A self pecker
leaving holes to be filled by watless ***** carriers
Frieghts of frightening memories
Sure one day shed love to tell me.
But she destructured herself
And left me for others to construct by themselves.

Destructing the self: is the art of not giving a **** but really not giving a **** to the point that there's no fcuks to give and giving a **** means you're affected by fcuks who dont give a **** or willing to give you an iota of optimism
A helping hand
A hope full of hopeful hopes
Hopping fluently between the structure of the destructed self
Which makes me feel woozy

As i struggle hard to say no to this tobacco
especially when it's been weeks
And the feeling of ease is punishing me for a past ive not seen but i realise in that moment we have much in common

Self destruction is our common denominator
Our choice is the same and is made the same
over and over again
Its still the same
results never change
And still leave us with this taint
That we are responsible for cleansing

So what more do i need to ask ma for?
She's giving me answers by her flaws. That's her gift to me,
her way of setting me free
well here's hoping she breathes easy.
My lungs are lead weights in my chest, pressing against my rib cage and bearing down on my intestines.
I try to inhale but the metal that is my lungs will not ply.
My mouth is stuck in a wide O as i continue to wheeze.
I reach out to your hand for help but you just sneer and pull away.
My lead lungs pull the oxygen from my system, keeping the necessary gases from entering, and you laugh.
You laugh as my whole life is taken away, endless possibilities all ended by the one impossible thing i wanted!
You.
You are what stole the air from my lungs, oh how exciting it was until i realized i could no longer take it back.
What you hold in your hands is not yours to have it is mine.
It is the air from my lung, every beat my heart skipped, every thought i have had since you showed up.
But now with this burning in my chest, my heart trying desperately to keep on pumping, i look into your eyes as you throw it all away , disappearing like dust in the wind.
Then you are gone.
Just as quickly as you came you leave.
The lead in my chest begins to drip through my bones, burning and clawing its way up my throat, and out my mouth and eyes.
My heart beats weakly in my chest as if it had gotten used to your vice like grip.
My eyes drip and my lungs burn and now all im left with
**is lead
Inspire by an asthma attack also it sounds way the **** cooler when i read it loud ****
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