Murder of My Lungs

With each breath in
A little taste of agony
Quck to breath death in
This ectasy admirably
Known as addiction
It is at my insistence
That it be called what it is,
Compulsion
I, compelled to end my existence
Intrinsic the implications
As I put to the test my organs of circulation
Need an imprint on inhalations
To know limits, to the point of no limitation
Happiness filtered through lungs
Passed along until the brain’s impatience
For that personal sensation
The second hand temptation
The minute arm of temporal displacement
Our fatal fascination
Dazed by self induced pulmonary degradation
Weak we draw the ether near to expectoration
Cardiovascular system
Now feeling the passion and wisdom
Of being tested until enlightened
As if unencumbered, loads lightened
As if floating on a combusting carbon dioxide island
Vapors come busting, muted esophagus silent
Reputed in its quiet
Says more about my will to commit violence
On muy corporeal form to feel alive
When exhalation inspires tracheal tube respiration defiance
Bronchial tissue, taught to fight against a need for oxygen
Diaphragm billows honest in
Diagrammed expression of its need to drag essence
Rent windpipes
Mouth longing for life
I have no contrition
Towards this self inflicted attrition
Coming by Occam’s physician
Parsimonious with sands of time prodigious
Shaving razor thin precious moments
To stop and smell roses
To pause, gasp, mouth open
To push my core to the brink
To the point I think
It can no longer stand my questionable yet rewarding abuses
No uses for gas, O2 overabundant
Why want it if such a bounty resides
My only wish,
To achieve a 4 minute milestone before I die