Coughing Ceases

To perform is
to live
with yourself,
with your work.
Writing for readers
is quaint and cozy.

I want to live
with fire again.
I want to crane
my neck
towards that
atmospheric bluish hue
blushing back at you
and release my voice
until my face races
with crimson overtones.

It’s overdue.

Coughing violently,
clinging to every breath.
Wresting control,
straining downwards,
released from
my heaving chest.

Coughing ceases.

Fostering the fire,
I no longer desire
to live
silently.

Michael Carney