Hunting Oxygen

As your chest rises, 
your lips - vacuum - 
drawing in the air I meant to breathe - leaving
my lungs to grope in
the dark, hunting 
stolen oxygen,
running in circles
only to find a void black hole where
air just was.
Struggled gasps bring mal-
nutritioned respirators
only empty calories -
cheap imitations of the 
prey I am hunting -
until your chest decends,
your lips - release. my grasping lips 
seek after
rich oxygen
and as they pursue
the remnants you have left,
at long last,
just before I am caught in my own 
web of suffocation,
I catch my breath.