Walking Pneumonia

I liken it to my bout with pneumonia

The doctor called it walking pneumonia
Because I don't know when to stop
I let something consume me
In hopes that I can still
Make it out alive
I function daily

My heart filled with
An unquenchable longing
My chest bruised and scarred

Held together with

Fresh sutures
Breathing becomes difficult
I feel that tickle creep in my throat

When I have been silent too long

When the whiskey is my friend
And I am not sleeping again
I feel the familiar burning
Rise up in my chest
And I wonder
How others waste 

Oxygen so easily

How they move 

Through life so freely

Untouched by the

Pain and suffering 

Oh how I envy them...

~Amber C. Smith 2015

Awakening

It's the habitual rituals

That draw me to you

The copper smell on my fingers 

Early morning dew

Coffe hot black

Wine red ready

The magic of the things lost 

Between the cracks of reality

Howling at the full moon

Primal And New...

~Amber C. Smith 2015

Dry Your Eyes

Franz Kofta veggie burgers
Cinnamon and Pears
Feed myself on memories
That fight to enter
My current fucked
State of reality
Life is slipping
Through the cracks
Daily
I am missing bodies
That used to hold me
All I am left with
Are old movies in my mind

And a longing

That gnaws at

The root of me
I know holding on is impossible
Yet my hands are bloodied
From grasping so hard
For too long
And my heart refuses
To forget
That fucking song...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywAgzAYUFls