Breaking Bad Poem by James McLain

She was large and tall but not obese.
So I stood before her face, as she convulsed.
The tremors came, as if in giving birth.
She would dip her head to find release upon the mast.

There are no sharp angle's to the circle of her eye's.
And deep in sleep, I sleep the sleep and breath released.
In the darkest corners of my sleep is when I came alive.
They whom wait for me to come and watch there's no surprise.