lil poems about chronic illness
beast of burden
I bear, don’t you
have anywhere
else to be this
evening? Some
other haunt that
you may attend?
and leave me
empty, lonesome
for your company,
they do say distance
makes the heart grow
fonder, so I dare beg
you to travel elsewhere,
I want to miss you again.
fantasy
breathing is a dragon
and beneath the flesh
armor itches a spell
dying to get out, frantic
energy hoping to escape
past my grasp and out
into the world, uncontrolled
darkness wandering about
as if my body wasn’t turned
inside out for such a magic
to exist, i did not bleed joy
to watch it thrive and i did
not lose a grasp on everything
to burn and dare burn without it
and on the journey I go, to
encapsulate my ill and force it
into something I wield instead of
something I am, and I become
strong enough to hold it again,
even let it sink beneath, and I
welcome the old foe with open
arms, almost as if we were friends
what do you do with being awake all the time? they ask and I pause and say, thinking. and I don’t admit to thinking about not wanting to be here because it’s more than that really. I would like one morning to open my eyes and not immediately crave release. I would like to not only be able to stand long periods but wish to do something whilst I’m standing, be it performing or playing soccer in the park or dancing in my kitchen with my love or hunched over in a garden, I crave to be active, to live again. I don’t want to be a burden anymore, a thumbtack that pricks him to the wall and keeps him stuck when his wings should also be free to fly. I am already caged and have become the cage to myself. I do not need to load my weight upon his back. I want to be able to eat, to want to eat again, to have a rumbling in my stomach signifying hunger and something other than bile. I want days where I feel good to not be some rare miracle I stumble upon but to morph back into my daily before. I want to have a good day and push myself to my limits and awake the next day to another rotation of good. I don’t want to be punished anymore for feeling well. I no longer wish to anticipate aching doubled because I could withstand an hour more of standing the day prior. I want freedom, release, of the dragon that guards the cavern of my stomach with loyal ferocity. But really I spend my time thinking, I say. Just thinking.