Kind of just posting some poetry that is therapeutic for the soul due to this current asthmatic episode that is determined to keep lingering this week, it kind of feels like, well, what is posted below:

A well-trained team of assassins

debate on where to stop the breathing.

They move in stealth to insure that

constricted airways remain that way,

and the alveoli are battered, bruised,

and deflated as air is forbidden to enter.

Wheezing, coughing, choking, gasping,

There is no escape from the assassins of breath,

there is little assurance that these demons will ever cease.

There allies rain from the branches of the earth’s pores,

tiny, invisible seeds that will not create for decades,

but will insure things go raspy for your lungs, throat, nose.

Pollen is an evil menace to society,

one that does no good for me.

I can only hope that the cleansing power of rain

refreshes, renews, and re-energizes me,

and the assassins of asthma once again, parish.