Things I Cannot See (Sick)

I am sick of being sick,
Of the mental,
emotional,
physical strain,

I would like to walk,
A few steps would be fine,
Without the blurred vision,
And difficulty,
Of underwater locomotion

I am sick of being sick
Of the meek excuses
I must make
For my body’s every ache

This weekly cycle
Is endless I fear
How I will function
I cannot predict
What is my purpose
In all of this,
To go through life
chronically sick?

I am sick of being sick
Of people being sick
Of me
Forgive me if I complain,
If my body cannot cooperate
With my brain,
Forgive me if I am a burden,
I know how burdens can be,
I wish for once
I could fit
In a “normal” category

I am sick of being sick
Of something I cannot see
Of ghosts haunting my mind
My emotion
My every waking motion

I can tell you
That I am trying
And swear this to be the truth
And I know you will tire of me too
I pray, be patient
Do not abandon me
I am sick of being punished
By things I cannot see.

-July 13, 2005

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What to Expect

May 29, 2015

It is Friday evening,
Once again she has gotten her hopes up
Far beyond any reasonable expectation

She will hope for a happy greeting,
Not too much, nor too little,
She should have expected
no acknowledgment
Secretly she still does

She will hope to be hugged
With no expectation of reciprocity
She will hope to just feel loved.
She should have expected no contact
With any hug or kiss as immediate prelude
to meaningless groping

She will hope for mutual conversation
Respectful and equal in part,
She should expect to be spoke to, not to speak
Lest, she wish to be corrected on et al, mid-clause

She will hope to sleep soundly,
Next to the one she love,
She should expect loneliness,
She should expect complacency with loveless-ness
She should expect, nothing,
But nothing

She should not have to expect
to keep expecting all of this.

Dust to Dust

October 28, 2006

Oh dearest love,
oh butterfly,
Stay a moment in my palm
For my pure adoration
Your camouflaged complexion
Fools my fickle eye

I hold tightly
Closer still
For fear that you will fly
And suddenly
As I try to calm
Thy fluttering
Dissolving
Thy powered wings
You die

Butterfly
How I have forgotten
How fragile you may be
My painted admiral
Lost within the chaos
My heart
My love
Reduced to fairy dust

Passion of the Child

July 2, 2006

Child,
is it worth the forfeit
This life you think you know?
Never to meet the dawn
Nor the sunset
That is always
Anew

Child,
So young,
What do you know?
What does the world know
Of you?

Suffer the day
Fight until dusk
But determine to taste
The fruit born
Of your tears
To do so,
bask in another morn’ s sun
You must