Intake

Intake

I open my eyes to the approach of dawn.
I yawn as so many have done as an opening to their day.
With no reasoning behind it, an intense fear overcomes me.
I can’t take in another breath, my mind shouts at me.
If I do, I just know it will be my last.
I let my yawn out breath by breath.
I can’t think of anything to do.
If I breathe again, I will die, but it’s obvious what will happen if I don’t.
Hold on, I think, come on this is irrational. I’m being irrational. Aren’t I?
I'm not breathing in, so no, this isn’t irrational something is wrong.
I shoot down the stairs, lungs burning from the extra exertion.
When It came to holding my breath I never was aquatic, but considering overactive adrenaline and rising panic I seemed to be faring pretty well.
Downstairs I find what I was looking for, a hospital mask.
I put on the mask and immediately feel relieved I found a solution.
I breathe in deep and forceful, through the mask as death fills my lungs.
My lungs fill with fire that chokes off my scream of pain and agony.
Thin breath wheezes out of my lungs in heated strips of barbed wire.
I try not to take in any more air but I’m betrayed by my own body and forced to endure another lung-full of express pain.
Tears come to my eyes but that pain is relief or at best none existent compare to my poisoned lungs.
Out; broken glass.
In; molten lava.
Then nothing no more.
No respiration, just peace.