Feed me oxygen one more time and when I wake I will feel like hell.
You can’t promise to take this away and despite my best efforts, the feeling remains- and I am electric.
I can still taste that on my palate, and vanguard my heart.

Take me along, relax and let the nausea gut you from the inside- it’s only temporary.
I forgave the former me to rediscover the new me
and they look the same, but damn does the feeling stretch into another year, another day…count the hours to the end.

Forgive me for all my terror-
what it looks like to the outside world and I feel your pulse removing me from myself.

Fitfully, break this fit in tremors and levies. I’m alive again
but there’s no guarantees…

One comment on “Sync

  1. natefegan says:

    It stands alone yet deepens the moment one tags it as such…

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