Air
The air here is stale and suffocates me as I breathe,
each inhalation torture in itself,
the ache for purity precedes itself,
my chest burns at the remembrance of it.
How must one continue forwards along a foggy path,
where the air is surley more treachorous?
How can one be expected to push onwards,
when what one longs for is far behind.
But to go back is next to an impossibility,
it is the dream of many,
to have again what one has lost
Or what has been taken.
I have possessed pure air before.
I have tasted it's majesty,
But knew not of it's rarity until it was stripped away.
Stripped as punishment.
Punishment that has not since long ago ended.
The reprecussions of my mistakes have been dire.
Each torturous breath reminds me of this
Tears me apart from the inside.
It seeps into my lungs, almost toxic, venomous as it passes my mouth.
The poisons poor through me, pulsing, pumping.
The death-like vapor creeps
Taking my mind along with it
Into darkness
Into more fog
Into mere toxic vapor
Deeper and deeper
Until now...
When the hope of surfacing
Is long lost
