I just wrote about this. But I’ll go again. Partially because I want to tell her story. In front of thousands of people. She’s stuck. She’s burning. She can’t expand. It’s only constant contraction.
Asthma. Can’t breath. Can’t think. Panic. Help me. Help me. Help me. Can’t breeeeeaaaath…
Pamela
It is so slimy just sitting there in my chest. I cant take it writhing and wiggling down there. Every hour of every day it is a fear that follows me around, a real little devil on my shoulder. Waiting at any moment to plunge the pitchfork in.
Jeff Kissam
You cage, you foul chains that grips the oxygen from my brains! how dare you withold the marrow my mind requires and hold it for your own to call yourself a health condition? Release your hand from my lungs and allow me to fill them with the air the wind has brung Thou horrid tar that sticks in my throat, you tricky air that turns itself plastic inside my chest, go alone and allow me to rest.
Something i used to suffer from when i was a kid,maybe 2 or 3 years old and it was quite bad. God showered His mercy and i recovered at the age of 6 with the aid of traditional chinese med.
Asthma spells weird. That’s all. And I don’t feel like talking right now. I want to go to sleep baby. Oh god what I am writing right now is disgusting. Sorry, I’m a newcomer.
I just wrote about this. But I’ll go again. Partially because I want to tell her story. In front of thousands of people. She’s stuck. She’s burning. She can’t expand. It’s only constant contraction.
Asthma. Can’t breath. Can’t think. Panic. Help me. Help me. Help me. Can’t breeeeeaaaath…
It is so slimy just sitting there in my chest. I cant take it writhing and wiggling down there. Every hour of every day it is a fear that follows me around, a real little devil on my shoulder. Waiting at any moment to plunge the pitchfork in.
You cage, you foul chains that grips the oxygen from my brains! how dare you withold the marrow my mind requires and hold it for your own to call yourself a health condition? Release your hand from my lungs and allow me to fill them with the air the wind has brung Thou horrid tar that sticks in my throat, you tricky air that turns itself plastic inside my chest, go alone and allow me to rest.
Something i used to suffer from when i was a kid,maybe 2 or 3 years old and it was quite bad. God showered His mercy and i recovered at the age of 6 with the aid of traditional chinese med.
He stopped. Clutched his chest. Breathing ceased. He gasped, gasped again. Stopped. Died. Martha had forgotten to pack his inhaler. OR HAD SHE?
He couldn’t breathe.
Asthma spells weird. That’s all. And I don’t feel like talking right now. I want to go to sleep baby. Oh god what I am writing right now is disgusting. Sorry, I’m a newcomer.