Failure To Ex-Hale

(A poem about the effects of a ashama attack)

Like being sucked in to a hurricane, impossible to breath, unable to move let alone leave.
Like a gun being cocked as it goes off   my airways become blocked
Sticky mucus and bile build up inside; strap myself in looks like I’m going for a ride
Unable to move feels like I got a bad case of the flu, as my skin turns pale then a ghastly shade of blue.
Finger nails look like they are melting in incredible heat.
Air exits from my lungs its sound like an air escaping from a balloon or dried up and useless a terrible tuneless tune.
Trapped on a moon with no oxygen or air I don’t want to be rude but this really is not fair
My eyesight gone hazy   Impossible to see now my hand had got itchy like it’s infested with fleas,
I pin all my hope on a familiar looking blue cylinder press down on the plunger, an epic fail is this my legacy failure to ex-hale.
My chest feels saw like my lungs have been removed by suction and my head spinning like being hit with a police man’s truncation.
No blowing wind no gentle, breeze as my chest grows tight and I start to wheeze.
5 minutes later these meds still aren’t working the demons in the details still keep on lurking
A wheezy like noise plays from my chest my lungs’ scream in agony my face a is a mess
Eyes as red as blood pulsate from my face and skull, no oxygen going to my head as I prepare to fall.
Starting to sweat its drips from my forehead, feet caught in imaginary mud no tires or tread,
The dizziness comes in waves, a familiar ambiance; it won’t be long until I’m in the back of an ambiance
Lungs don’t fail and falter, maybe I would be better of breathing underwater
Prepare the nebulizer; I am coming back from the void, beyond the vortex with my will to survive.