Dry

 

My mouth is dry,

I don’t know why,

But I hate this high. . .

 

It brings with it a fatal numb,

Slowly halting my internal drum.

My chapped lips part,

        in effort to speak,

But my entrails are too dry,

All that I can do, is try…

 

It spreads like a fire,

Moving lower and higher,

Sending its drought through

My body no doubt.

 

I soon cannot blink

The last gone is the way I think,

Soon only dry, dry, dry.

 To my life, I say

 

          Goodbye

 

-NN