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...