I hold my breath with hope
an idea will appear like an angel
a lucky break will fracture these links
that the dirty work will be magically
wielded by another

unable to advance
held frigid in a moment of indecision
that stretches into a year
the past distorts into a cartoon
a dimension beyond my reach

caught within the image you hold
a mortician’s handiwork
eternally smiling starring dull
into a future that can’t be mine
laid cowardly within this silken box

my life slows to an intermittent thud
as my oxygen deprived heart tries to survive
the urgency in my lungs becomes
a distant itch ignored out of necessity
all that you love is slowly dying

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