Closed-in, the long white lung is sighing. Panic echoes along a curve of heaving air. On and on anxiety stretches towards a filmy light; a way out beyond the muffled breathing. A heart flutters against windows that have already rusted tight: weighed down with the intricacies of lead. Above, the ribs line up like roof-struts, thick as trees. Once this space breathed optimism. Exhaled fresh ideas as light as air: a rainbow bubble riding high. Hope has seized up here under pressure. Melancholy drifts at the soft edge of nothingness. Waiting to take the next breath.