As it Bursts

[vagabond]

Sockets forked with broiled eyes
clamped hard, tears and phlegm dripping
from my cheeks, mixing with the bubbles            you could write "mix with the bubbles" to avoid a another    "ing"
steaming green on the tubs surface,
lit soft by cinnamon candles      
and window moon.                      maybe some adjective, like foggy window moon.. or fogged but that doesn´t sound good .. but i like this moon behind the window here.

I focus on each breath,
the lung tar and cinnamon hacking
up the heartburn dissolving my innards           "..while heartburn dissolves..."?
and crisping my throat, emptying myself
with napalm.

this made me see a serious bronchitis..  hope i´m not completely off and offending a more tragic story  : )
your words are very original and the images fit (in what i imagined). i especially love the broiled eyes, not so much a fan of napalm (that word seems to aggravate the bronchitis with a men´s flu.).
i like how cinnamon turns into an irritant gas with medical purpose in the second stanza.