Air escapes my weakened lungs, oxygen back to dioxide,
no matter how much I fight it—
I know there isn’t much life left.
Not enough blood pumping, travelling, facilitating.
Lump in my throat, a dry patch left on my tongue,
The clouds take over my brain, revealing this foggy landscape.
My body feels heavy
My body begins to be a burden
This body once called mine
is nothing more than flesh—
Flesh is...