I’m sick. That’s the truth. And no matter how serious it is, I can’t think anything except my life will make a sick ass memoir once this is cured.

A sordid drop murmurs in blemishes on the waves of insanity Agape mouth chokes as lungs are drained dry Needles of salt stich pain into my eyes But I ask forgiveness seeking respite from scorching above and freezing below My promised, wading attempt to avoid this drowned fate

I wait as sleep has departed for nights’s ceasing I bite my tongue in ticking patience what’s few hours more? Dried drops scald yet no shouts nor whimpers shall percolate out I await tomorrow and sieve out courage Regardless of which fate dawns upon me the light I must face alone

In my woodshed I whittle away crafting ornate coffers All were unique none could I sell and they sit on display Some I made for others So why keep them she asks Seldom do I take one down to reminisce about which chisel carved it and recall a locked past that can no longer hurt me

Round one of chemo is done. I’m almost free of this nightmare. #FuckCancer

All rounds of chemo done. Just have to see what the doc says but I am on the homestretch.

The ink is drying out for darkened dust has faded Once fermented in the labyrinth of my silent torture it’s flow too is congealing Even the paper feels small to contain all the same wails Of all deaths I feared this one I welcome The ink has dried out and I must put the pen down

My oars weave the river of fate on the current of time Yet I ask if its mine to sail If the wisdom of the depth is fodder or fortune But I often forget to question if the doubt even needs asking The dock is not destined nor deserved So I raise the mast and only ask Do I want it?

Why do I feel homesick when I haven’t a home? Only a delicate bubble in time on a desert of strewn memories A lone hut weathers in unseen solace under the vigilant sun For such a home I yearn One that never existed My mirage from a parched dream with walls of collaged nostalgia

Your sunlight passes through me You drink me in but your touch eludes me Your radiant spring precipitates me and the drain of distance evaporates me The daily anchor I haul surreptitiously slowly sinks and drowns me Yet I float still like a lone buoy for your flare to find me

I scour your visage hunting a formless truth I fear I'll find lies oscillating in your collaged allure I succumb to suppressed whispers tainting each unspoken exchange Yet the deeper I search what haunts me is not chasing a spectre you never possessed but you seeing in me a ghost

Balloons lift me up With each new distraction I add one and release another Legs stiffen from disuse as I float into a turbulent storm Chaos winds draw near yet I can’t let go and I fall Skies are all I’ve known but grounded now I crawl and try to find my footing on porous stone

Standing over my own corpse scalpel in hand dissecting scars and sunken bruises I postulate motives and meanings behind each unguarded strike I feel their pain describe their doubts reconstruct their youth Yet I lay dead still undone embalming myself in their justified inhumanity

Ineffable I meander my dictionary in hand Perpetually overwritten ruminations now legible only in deep indentations I hear their words they hear mine but translation takes time and they are too busy to decipher my musings so I scribble hastily condensed awaiting one patient ear