it was not like
i knew it.
it was quiet
and slow,
yet not hiding.

red and raw
but easily dismissed
and disguised;
a shiftless disease.

some days it is
i can live
the ugliness;
knowing it is me.

but when a body
is at war
with itself –
and losing –
every pore drips with the truth.

medicine says,
allow the body
to heal itself.
there is nothing to be done

some days it is
how did i let
my body
defeat itself?

unknowingly. and now
immunity is
an ugly word.
and i must watch
the slow dying death.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: