I so hate that monster
That monster that takes your breath
I so hate that monster
That monster that eats away at your spirit
I so hate that monster
That monster that steals your time away
I so hate that monster
That monster that tries to take you from me
I so hate that monster
That monster that dims your bright light
I so hate that monster
That monster that has hi-jacked your health
I so hate that monster
That monster that is always lurking in the shadows
I so hate that monster
That monster that will not win this battle!!!

I close my eyes
Forgot my mind
Or similar kind
Eaten by flies
I'm all alone
She is sick
Burning the wick
Speaks in groans
She can't breathe
She can't move
Please improve
What's underneath
Bloodied vile
Pills are lies
Make you die
I need a smile
Not alone
Please no
Feeling low
Empty phone
No one gets it
The sorrow
Covered in yarrow
Eyes filled in grit
Poisons my mind
You are gone
Blackened dawn
Wish it was my time
Give you air
Take my strength
Your heart sank
I will make it fair
My time yours
As I depart
Owner of heart
Don't fight any wars

She is lying in bed–
        tucked under her duvet,
        wrapped in freshly
        washed sheets, breathing
        into the phone that I know
        is on her pillow–
97 miles from me.

It is her asthma, acting
up right on time, that
is keeping me awake
so I am lying, under
my own duvet, holding
onto my own phone,
thinking
        about the airways
        carrying every breath
        into and out of her lungs–
        inflamed, muscles tightening,
        narrowing paths
thinking
        that maybe breathing
        in the same cells, oxygen
        mixing with carbon, me
        mixing with you, you might
        be able to breathe
        a little easier
thinking
        that I know
        I breathe easier
        with you

When I was younger, I had asthma.
I remember that suffocating feeling.
The panic, anxiety, nervousness striking my system all at once.
I never wanted to feel that again.

Fast-forward 20 years later, you came along.
The overwhelming feeling of asthma has come back.
I can't breathe.
You are asphyxiating me.
Yet, I find excuses, inhalers, to tolerate you...to keep you near.

Is it worth filling my lungs with chemicals just so that they can expand and contract?

There's an earthquake going on inside me, my chest is the fault line, My stomach is a shoe lace factory, and  a tornado decided today was a great day to do tornado things.

Ya know? It really ***** when your lungs turn to vacuums and not the good kind, the kind of **** when you can hear sand knock around trying to find a way down. There's a sandstorm in your lungs and all you need is an inhaler, but breathing is easy so you don't need an inhaler.

My mom taught me how to handle this. She handles this.
She taught me cold weather can freeze this over.
But when this fails it can turn into tar and we know that tar is hotter than ****.

Are you aware that it doesn't work out when your stomach becomes a shoelace factory and a tornado happens to do tornado things?
My mom handles this. I asist.
Her guts turn to strings and don't do very gutsy things.
Her pancreas called in sick.
That was 3 years ago.
Her cheeks aren't very cheeky.
Her bones show through her skin.


Every now and then I feel the ground start to rumble and I wait for us to fall in.

Drowning
On dry land
Chest heaving
Lungs burning
Fresh air
All around
Lungs won't accept
Panic ensues
Inhaler sought
Sweet air returns
Death evaded
Asthma *****

wondering why people
who have everything in life
are depressed
is like wondering why
an asthma suffer can't breathe properly
when he has all the air outside to breathe