Stale air, cold, circulates
oxygen forces itself through a tube
it looks a lot like the ones
connected to my heart.
No contact, no sounds, no anything
white walls covered with silent smiling faces
that never say anything at all.
Cut off from the world, alone, with
only a bed, and little me lying in it
memories shatter and fade with
every needle stick, every
drug. Nurses enter and exit every half hour
faces a blur, nondescript, alien to my eyes
temperature, blood pressure, are you hungry?
No.
Everything tastes like cardboard except
grape Fanta and grandma's macaroni and cheese.
Oh, look, you've got a clean scan.
A few months go by and yet again
your cancer comes back, your lungs,
ovaries, intestines, heart, liver but
nothing in the brain, yet.
Stage three.
Children? 99.8% chance of never conceiving
menopause is likely, at 16, still a child.
Lung function decrease, test tube, biopsy
another surgery, 6 in two years.
Chest tube, uncomfortable, drugged and
Stage 4 is death.
I wonder if I ever died on that table...
No, don't tell me, just do it.
Hook me up to the soul sucking tubes and wires
so I can watch my life waste away
for the second time, in perhaps a year.
My Halloween forever cloudy...
Adding your comment:
