The Flick, The Drop, The Squeeze

He's here again, I feel the breeze,as my heart's engulfed with his disease.

The tendrils loop, they weave and tighten, I am caught.

Now comes the squeeze...bastard embrace, bile rising, I have no space. I'm lifted up, the light flickers and dies, and I'm replaced with truth.

I see my fate with cold resolve, all blackness, no blue,
And now I see paths to end it too.
A flick, a drop, a squeeze will do, If only I will see it through.

We dance and sway, one as one, in and out, we move with ease.
But always still....I ponder the flick, the drop, the squeeze.

The fire is low, all is ash, and all could end within a flash.
But he grows tired, and down I slide,
his sneering all that's left to reside,
Inside my mind, my heart, my being.

I push up, and walk for air, holding railing for support,
Collapsing soon, my walk is short,
For ever whispering on the breeze:
The flick, the drop, the squeeze.