No one tells you about the sick days.

Fever, chills, now blood is staining your throat with a lifeline attached, and your chords are giving out.

Your ears are ringing,

You feel lightheaded, dizzy, now you aren’t thinking clearly.

No one tells you about the sick days and the way the way you feel worse as the day moves slow and slower, slowly withering away.

No one tells you the way you’ll feel death when you breathe.

One wrong inhale and you don’t think about the wounds in your chest.

Exhaling is hell, force of nature, the trees burning, the earth shaking.

Your own grounds walking beneath your feet.

The sense of the senseless I’m not making sense of this, but this is my version of feeling the feeling I think will last forever.

Does it?