Existing with that constant pain
Deep in the epigastrium,
The soft tissues twist and turn,
Fold and mold into the most painful shapes.

The acid pumps into your tubes—
It burns! The acid takes shape.
It gets stuck in the throat,
It blocks the pipe at a junction.

Breathe... breathe... breathe...
Air won’t pass to the lungs.
Arms grasp at the throat and chest—
What a useless instinct, evolution.

The geyser will erupt;
The vocal cords tense to resonate,
But you resist
To avert strangers’ eyes.

All this swirling and whirlpools—
The mind can’t take,
Though it’s a construct of its own demise.

Through the heart, emotions unfold—
They strangle the rest of the body.

O! My love! This poison in my soul—
Your words, your touch, your love:
The only antidote.