Wednesday, 8 October 2008

a memorial for something or another

I feel obligated be candid on this blog, despite the desire to protect myself. Voyerism is a vulnerability. So is cancer, so is life. And, life is all about other people, living things, only diffused through one's self and then back again, sharing, hopefully infinitely. The lack of blood is making me crazy.

So I write, even though earlier I kept my face firmly planted in a bathtowel crying, sobbing hard, so that my family in the next room wouldn't notice. I am broken down. My body is a mess, my mind slowly slipping into the grips of phobia. The thought of having a needle biopsy in my neck tomorrow is terrifying. I will simply. refuse.
I am only two decades long.
and so much more pain to come

What thread do I have to hold onto? Little mediocre things to satisfy.

my shoulders are numb
no great weight, just
lack of bloodflow
my heart beating
my body senseless
trying to make it up to me
it's ok baby.
i dont mind if you
let me down
i can
pick myself up
just fine baby my
shoulders are numb

No comments:

Post a Comment