Poem -
Wheezer
Perforated pleuraΒ
From wrenching non stop
Torn and twisted thoracic musclesΒ
The ballast tanks have popped
Walking like a wounded soldierΒ
Clutching my side
A victim of a xenomorphΒ
Something pupating inside
Thorn like trachea
Razor wire to doomed troops over top
Consecutive convulsions
The cure is out of reach, aloft
If only I'd listened and acted
When they'd told me to stop
Pulmonary embolismΒ
An expensive blood clot
Too little too lateΒ
May as well keep hitting the pipe
No breaking free of this cycle
Try as I might
(Having Man flu is the influence behind this poem. I have never smoked crack cocaine. FICTION)
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Comments
Being sick really sucks Syd. Get better soon! Awesome ink my friend. It is heartening to see, that illness hasn'tΒ dampenedΒ your muse.
Hi Lisa, it certainly does. Thank you, I'll use anything for inspiration.Β
Thanks for stopping by my page.
Take careΒ - Syd xoΒ
Dear Syd,
Sometimes life is not all it's "cracked" up to be
Those euphorias leave such scars
One final toke, before I leave
And float up to the stars
Peace and love, my friend,
Larry xxx
A wise choice of words Larry. Well written.
Peace and love also - Syd xxxΒ