Exhale

I breathe out and the exhale keeps going until my insides end up outside. 

My beliefs, my breath, and my guts exit through my mouth.

I am cleansed of being anything.

I feel the thin thread of this essence, the last of its kind, of my kind

still lingering like a hair in my mouth.

Second by second I don't know who I am anymore. 

Every fiber of me is gone. 

The moments, the days, and the interactions in life

take pieces of me and I'm running on empty.

Gas is expensive and I am cheap.

I'd rather be nothing than refill my tank;

To exhale is to lose the skin off my back.

To exhale is to lose my true desires.

To exhale means I won't conform.

To exhale is to lose.