Drawn From a Tattle Tale

Breathe into my hands. I’ll cup them like a glass to drink from. Are you still, still breathing? I can’t keep moving while gasping for air. I’m drowning, can’t you see? DAMNIT I’M FUCKING DROWNING! HELP! Help me. help me please. I am trying to stay afloat, I need you to breathe into me. Am I still breathing?

I feel empty. I don’t have any choice in this matter. It seems as though a road has been laid down before me and I am just to follow and obey. This predetermined monotony is slowly stealing all my oxygen. How can I live? I choose freedom of mind and strength of will, but have no wind under my wings to take off and fly. Where are you? where are you? Am I still breathing?

If this is it, then let it be easy. Heroin to my veins now, the only way I will settle this need for breath. Sedation, emancipation, don’t run from me because this is fate. I don’t need anymore. I cant swim, I can’t run, I am just floating. Am I still breathing?

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