I’m like a depressing Doctor Seuss.
Crack
An image of
a helping hand,
admired and revered
Upon which you are all
dependant,
diluted and adhered
It holds you up
and weakens you
Your strength, unneeded, lacks
So when the hand closes
its fist
I’ll hear as your bones crack
Man Over God
“Praise Jesus”
they say
“Thank God”
they all gasp
but the man
who loses self
to God
is the man
who will come
last
Take action,
I plead
Go forward,
I urge
For the man
who’s ruled
by none but self
is the man
who will
come first
Life
It grabs ahold of your neck
and digs its thumb into
your throat
It pulls the colour from your hair
and your eyes begin
to float
Your chest caves in,
cavernous
and canyons bed beneath
your eyes
And you try to breathe
and try to scream
but your airways
are all tied
Some call it stress,
anxiety, depression,
grief, or strife
But the term that I am partial to,
I think I’ll call it
“Life”
Fever
We wait until the fever breaks
I keep quiet for both our sakes
Your face is swollen
It’s hard to take
Choke back tears
It’s hard to fake
Propofol, Midazolam
I’m holding on the best I can
Fentanyl, Ciprofloxacin
These are just names, just medicine
But they keep you here
so I’ll stay with you
Until you wake,
I wish I could sleep too