The-Black-Hole

(Exhaling, Birthing the breath Conceived of Fear and Anxiety. Lungs on fire – They need air, I need air, But it feeds the flames inside. I am working on an exhale, Long past due …) (My Rabbit Heart races, Beating seismically In this tightening trammel Against expanding fractures Along the fault lines of my ribs.) (I am breaking And burning.) (This cracking – Maybe it’s my smile, Lately its been slightly too bright, And a little too brittle.) (There is Maybe written in the air, A hope for the next breath, For the flames to cool, Or at least be confined And not burn my Rabbit Heart Which in its weakness Or strength Can drum a seismic beat.) (I am a Supernova in a Tea cup…) “I’m fine.” ——————————————————————-