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Description
the panic is sticking to my lungs
languid in my body, rushing stream
crash crash boom boom...!
my hand forms into a pistol
and i laugh death off.
a sort of hideous relief,
i fall onto the abjected bed
my lungs go up, ballooning and crashing erraticly
my lips like the exit of a red popped balloon.

cureless, they try to cut my heart out
—laugh, why would they want a misbegotten apple?
and then they say they want a diagram for what went wrong

a human's number one disease is heartbreak.