Constricted
Obstructed
Lacking air
Your pushing on my throat as hard as you can
And you don't care
You like the tears it brings to my eyes as I lay there
I'm fighting for breath but it's useless
I'm Gagging why
But you just laugh at my despair
This is your favorite game
I start to retch when you let go
Only to repeat it again and again
I guess
I deserve this
This is how I live now.
Begging you to stop hurting me
Pleading for the monsters to have mercy
About the Creator
Benita Gonzalez
Just a woman trying to make it in this messed up world and I'm trying my best it's not over till I'm underground
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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