My chest feels heavy,
my breathing is so tight
that I am almost running out of oxygen
leading me to a hypoxic state.  

I’ve been punching
this pulsing sensation inside.
Cursing it to stop beating,
for all it ever pounds
is the most excruciating pain
I have ever felt my whole life.
Running deeply from my skin,
to every nerve and to every tiny
fiber of my being.

I wanted to scream
from the peak of Mount Thor,
from there I’ll jump
only to submerge myself
in the Mariana Trench
to slough every tear,
repel every hatred, and
to relinquish every throe
that there is inside me.

Where no one would have
to witness me at my weakest,
where nothing would hear me
as inconsolable,
somewhere I know I will not see you.

How could you?
You grabbed my heart,
petted it, then throw it away
and have it smashed
to the ground.

How could I?
Prospered by your sole existence,
and dreaded by
the wrath of tomorrow, by
the pang of longing, and
by the ache of defeat.

Bizarre, that’s what my faith is now.
As for my prayers, they’re perfidious.
I am finally unarmed.
Am no longer the warrior
I once used to be.

Where are you now
Seemed like you were on my back
Holding me back
With that warm embrace

Your warm memories sigh
Seem so benign
Don't step out of line
As well you know your place

The solace you sought
Was to give a millstone
Beguiled and betray your tone
I'd have you back again

Held me so close a cloistered prince
Thrive on your hypoxic high
On your placental supply
Ectopic asphyxiation

Air thin and caustic
each gasp leaving me a step closer to nauseous
lips taste the reality bitter and noxious
feel every breath taken, leaves me chest riven with anxiety
killing this ache that eats away at the dreams that live inside of me
if eyes are the windows to the souls, these eyelids secure my privacy
smothering the hazel pools from basking in sun ray's, yet these makeshift curtains no match for a fire sky
heart strained reminded of dire times
where I combined
every ounce of energy I could muster into one effort
made my bets and held my breath awaiting my death's ledger
the hypoxic reality that ensued
haunted me with ghostly recollections of you
my restless mind ventured through memories plagued with stinging sensations of uncompromising resent
I factored in my all the time spent
as well as my mind's rent
that you owed, being its only tenant
yet now that all emotional debts seem square, I don't have the heart to spend it
perhaps I'll store it away in notebooks and old pictures, praying the balance accrues interest over time left untouched in this my personal account
in something other than your love and its varying amount
battered hands pain-stakingly surmount
the pile of photos and letters, written with a future in mind
eyes wide, allowed you views inside
air thin and caustic, the light draining from these windows that leave my eyes dull
remain motionless, praying on a change, searching for my revival...

Sometimes in the summer,
I walk down to the empty part of
my neighborhood at dawn.
there, vacant lots stretch their dry-grass-legs
and recline on the hillsides, napping.
they, the part of the American dream
that you always forget about when you finally wake up,
are the unwanted kin of proud homes.
by a storm drainage lake, brown with algae,
I take a seat on a rusted guardrail
and as I look across the water, hypoxic and still
for a moment transforming into fool's
gold before my eyes, as if Midas has crested the horizon,
I feel the gaze of my transcendental father,
and wonder why I'm able to feel at peace.

Taken from a sentient, spit forth and proceed. Like the hangnail that hung until you ripped it off, then told it about what happened. What ... what would happen in the coming months. Try to distance it: a runner in the coldest part of warsaw. The image that serves as the vessel through which I breathe, test tube attached to each struggle which is nothing. Everything vile in the phlegm of yesteryear. Why wait in this hypoxic state? Keep diving within and without.

Now - as if settled through writhing. Cold dex and cut-to-**** with baby's breath. Whittle me in the corner with a carrot peeler cause i ain't got the guts. Test the ceslestial light like a fuse box or put the lid on.

I miss the frozen air
skimming the tilted surface
& pelting my bearded-face
with granular rock
as my snot drips
solidly afixed
between my red nose & blue lips,
these stinging eyes gazing
upward into
the blackest of nights,
an hypoxic-mind
trying to count stars,
stay focused on my brick feet
while thinking of you,
lying so sweetly
in the comforts
of a huge warm bed,
a mountain of sheets,
your skin on fire.

Let it remain
ovarian pure. After strangulating
the truth,
for hypoxic euphoria.

Flies in your face
the dirt,
the denial, the terracota
of superposition of speech
hiding self-interest.

Blackened crozier
for wrinkeled crotch
drops the ashes of love
on unopened buds.

Weeping willow sways
in warm winds of prayers.
Strawberry in holes
nothing like bruise.

I'm feeling weary.
Because it took a toll, I was too deep inside, now there aren't enough breaths to come back to come back to the top and breathe.
The water is cozy, and I'm dizzy, hypoxic,
I don't mind resting in the lap of these corals.

"When you love somebody and bite your tongue all you get is a mouthful of blood." It's better I stay bleeding. Lips sealed swallowing stuff from the heart, it would be a shame if I opened my mouth and stained the carpet. Leaving spots on the floor
where I slept outside your door. "When you love somebody it's hard to think about anything but to breathe."
I was lost in those ocean eyes
You left me hypoxic and petrified
You don't know how hard I tried
To ignore the ache in my chest
Dying to let out this breath
My heart about to burst
I figured if give it to you instead.
No pulse, put your ear to my chest
I gave you the love that was left
Now I'm heartless and I don't want it back. I accept the uncertainty,
Give me a call...or a text, I should be going, it's a long drive back. "I am the cub who was washed out in the flood" I'm sorry about the carpet. I hear lemon juice gets out blood.

He was the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on
His countenance rugged and bronze
His smile was infectious and his lips perfectly curved
And his body was a five alarm

And his accent--oh his accent!

Well, that did her in. She was smitten and wholly entranced
Bound and determined to have him, and thus began their dance.

He showed that country girl exquisite things that her heart had only dreamed
He wined her and dined her and...(well I will leave that to your imagination what happened next)
But things weren't exactly quite as they seemed.

Little cracks during conversations that seemed rather odd.
Not returning calls, being drunk, angry and cold.

Inconsistent, resistent, not true to his word, he would tell her he would call then go off for days, not to be heard.

She would wait and worry and fret and stew, but he would eventually call again
That thrill of excitement, that wonder of lust, revving up her rusty engine.

This went on for quite some time--the ups and the downs in her soul and her mind. It all seemed quite normal to him as long as she didn't whine or demand his time.

She was in love. He said he was, too. But something didn't seem right when she would occasionally feel blue. Anything not fun and sunny and light would anger him and turn him from Jekyll into Hyde.

She would weep and cry and try to bring him around. But that made him angrier the more she would expound.

His moods tossed and turned like an insomniac. But she still loved him to the moon and back.

She was used to her mother who was similarly made, so placating and pleasing became a routine way. The times, when good, were amazingly great.

He crossed the Atlantic to make her his wife. His first week there was a crash course in strife. Demanding and cursing rather than just trying to fit in, it was going to be his way or the highway, her resilience wearing thin.

The name calling began, the anger more mean
The weeks were spent recovering from the screams.

He called her names she had never been called. She withered and wept and emotions were raw. Nothing was good enough from her to him. She tried to make them a life, but there was too much sinking to swim.

Her friends never knew if they were on or off. Her children just tried to stay aloft.

She would breathe a sigh of relief when he would come down, allowing them to repair the break from this round.

But finally the ups and the downs took their toll, and after leaving twice before he took the plane back home.

Leaving her devastated and emotionally drained, not knowing where they stood, feeling she was to blame.

Two years later and two worlds apart, they are still legally married but of questionable hearts. She still loves him as from that first sight. He on the other hand, doesn't seem to want a wife. He tells her he wishes they had never met--
"*******, *****" rings his voice in her head.

Why can't she let go? No need to walk away or leave. He's 4,000 miles away, and couldn't care less for her needs. She knows this is wrong. She knows he is toxic. But her heart rules her head.
Perhaps she is hypoxic.