The art of suffocation.
When you strangle someone
Look.
As the blood running through his veins,
turn toxic with each oxygen starved moment.
Hear.
As he chokes on the blood rushing around his skull,
as if it were about to explode.
Think.
As you realize how in a few moments,
they end up being a mere bundle of blood vessels in your arms.
Shush…
They say it takes 7 minutes for a man to die of suffocation.
Well, I once read in a poem
that it takes 27 seconds for a man to give up.
To give up trying,
to give up fighting,
to give up being.
The funny thing about suffocation is,
sometimes it’s not the water seeping into your lungs that drowns you,
but a sea of expectations and disappointments.
It’s not food that chokes you,
but words and places.
And unlike movies,
strangulation here isn’t quick.
It’s slow and painful.
And after a while
you are no longer thinking of survival,
but only of the agony being over.
So how do you recognize this kind?
If someone is struggling with their last breath?
I don’t know.
Neither do you.
But I want you to know that the next time
I decide to swim to the surface,
away from people and dreams,
it’s not because I’m running short on breath.
It’s because this,
is my 28th second.
