Sick (Dark) Poem by Thomas Plotz

Sick - from the Life I need
Just - the unjust, Air I breathe
Air. - Just taken for granted

Persistent pain, all the same,

Unable to inhale
Unable to catch my breath
Unable to exhale, the old exchange,

Poison, the poison gas, lingers still, and remains,

I wasn't able to sleep, the night before last,
On my back,
Or on my side,
Or in a chair,
Not in my bed
At,
All...

Sick - from the Life I need
Sick - the unjust, air I breathe
Sick - Air just taken for granted,

Lungs raw from the virus attack,
Coughing up blood, with this tormented act,

Plagued and persecuted from within,
Swallowing back, blood thick with skin,
I know, I know, it's better out than in,

Sometimes, slipping, and swallowing hard,
Seems to lubricate the howls…

 
I know what you're thinking,
Bronchitis,
It's not that bad,
It's not like a person needing
An inhaler to breath every day,
Although, I use one,
Too,

Without air,
We share,

There's only,
Death…

T. Plotz
Sick (Dark)
18 FEB 2016