Pavement

Your mind is racing,
but your body is stationed
on the pavement
that can’t help you
because it is busy stealing your blood
that as a result of time
is clotted
amd getting harder to soak up.
Your eyelids are closed shut,
the fleshy balls are movign,
but as if in mud.
You’d love to exhale
and let that be it,
but ayou know your heart won’t
fail
and your chest will spawn a fit
to try and force out your breath if your mind would just refrain
the body could do the rest.
Your own blood has turned
against you as it leaves,
suddenly mordant and makes you feel more
aggravated toward pain
than bereaved.