Bloodsucker

The bloodsucker lies in wait,

in the darkness of the night,

in the crumbling buildings,

eyes focused,

wallet hungry.

-

This rotting body

-

its too slow approach,

-

can be felt from birth

and it waits

in the dark

with such patience.

-

It waits for you to struggle,

it waits for you to

start to bleed,

it waits for you to give up,

it waits for you to

start to

swim in your own need,

it puppeteers your area,

your life silently predetermined,

every moment of suffering

long planned ahead.

-

You live a life in orbit,

circling,

a vulture above

your own body,

begging,

the moments to breathe

becoming elusive, uncommon,

the feeling of the noose invisible

but tightening, inexplicable

but you know it, you can’t shake it,

and on sleepless nights, as you toss and turn, as the moon rises and starts its nightly plummeting, something watches on, praying that you fail, praying that you need, profiting from your pain, salivating when you lose.

-

You feel your body rotting,

and can’t explain why

you can’t seem to breathe anymore,

your chest tight to breaking point,

ribs cracking

a brand new ache.