How It Feels (Sparks)

These cinders
Coat my throat
As the pain
Goes down
Real easy

Mistaking air
For fire
While both lungs
Clear smoke

From a furnace
Burning steam
This chest
Left begging

What breaths
I swallow
To assume there is
Still hope

When gagging
On tiny coals
Too small
For life

By flames
Not fearing water
Since that ash
Will fill
Each hole

And line
Exploding veins
Through our mouths
Hung open

In disbelief
Now common
How those embers
Such thoughts

Near death
At simple coughs
Wishing God
Was always

Than His heat
Which passes judgment
Upon sickness
With sin.

– J. Pigno

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