Dreaming

Death tugs at my ear and whispers "Live! I am coming." -Virgil

He taps my shoulder and spits in my face as I turn and face him.
He makes me feel like I have been sabotaged by my own thoughts.
I want to live. I want to breathe.

I want him to know that I am winning.
Him with hands over ears and eyes of stone.
He listens naught.
I will live. I will breathe.

He haunts my dreams. He lives in my soul.
Churning in filth and fire.
I am alive. He is shriveling.
He is wasting away.
I am living. I am breathing.

I am winning.