i think i'm dyin'

i think i'm dyin',
these artificial lights are toxic
this air conditioning is pneumonic
i can't breathe -
deadlines and deliverables form a death grip
i can't see -
stress standing over me stabbing at my neck
bobbin and weavin, shoulders at my ears,
i wonder, am i still here?'
wait, i think my soul rescued my spirit and fled
but i can't hear - they left my insides raw and howling
oh god, i'm bleeding out all over my monitor
i think i'm dyin'.

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