Virus in the Air, Spasms in my Back There’s a virus in the air, but I can’t see it. People are dying around me, but I can’t save them. There are spikes pierced in my back, spasms, but I can’t touch them. Heartbeats, hell pulsating, my back muscles, I covet in my prayers. I turn right to the left, in my bed, then hang still. Nails impaled, I bleed hourly, Jesus on that cross. Now 73 years of age, my half-sister …