Might Yet Choke

Feel the bile at the back of my throat.
Upon this air I might yet choke.

Cough up the violence, I don’t want it to stew.
Bored of the downtime, sending me askew.
Confused and fuzzy, is how I feel this day.
Someone hit me with adrenaline, before I drift away.

Feel the bile at the back of my throat.
Upon this air I might yet choke.

Disgust is the taste, and I want it to go.
Feel all the buildup, don’t want a part in the show.
Give me relief, I’ll wriggle far and free.
If I do not escape this cell, it’ll become my eternity.

Feel the bile at the back of my throat.
Upon this air I might yet choke.

Hand on the sink, pressure is building.
Whatever lies within, I need it to be wilting.
For my patience is down to a strand of wire.
If this goes on much longer I may soon turn to fire.

Feel the bile at the back of my throat.
Upon this air I might yet choke.

Or is this my overreaction?
Have I allowed to much infraction?
A circumventing of my persona.
Because of the mention of rona.

I don’t know and it feels wrong to say.
Think about now I need to split it from me.

Feel the bile at the back of my throat.
Upon this air I might yet choke.