The Drowning of An Epigram

My eyelids were on the wrong side of the tug of war

and my chest pain was getting worse

because all I could concoct in my mind---

was why I wasn't worthy of the tragedy

We were all fabulists at heart

always pursuing what was right

while making all the wrong decisions

We liked the open wound

the feel of the air rushing in with the familiar sensation of being a stranger to our insides

and I couldn't keep them open anymore

because I saw no good ahead

and all I could feel was a shortness of breath

and the desire to be but an anchor