
ten, nine, eight,
i hope this works,
i cannot wait.
seven, six, five
where’s my breath,
where’s…my…alive.
four, three, two
another ascent to death
wheeze like glue
one, one, one
one, one
one
bone? gone? done?
hone? lone?
none?
run.
POET’S NOTE:
Part of The Mind’s Maze collection.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.



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