Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.

Lucid dreaming is the doorway
        to the unconscious.
So dream.
Do not stay closed
        behind cement barricades
        blocking the moon
        from shining.
Live.
Each second is for you.
The tumbling of life
         does not promise
            anything.
In one breath
you can have
        a time table
        handed to you.
A distinct framework
        of how much
        longer you shall be.
Stay in illusion.
Keep in mind
that very little
is worthy of
being screamed about.
Politics
        and
people games
        are not
         the substance
        of existing.
Picture colourful images
         that flutter
          playfully
            across the
           mental horizon.
A traffic light
      will
       blink
red, yellow, green.
A noise
        will dominate
         the shading sky.
These mean nothing.
Moments of distraction
        soon
         gone away.
Focus on fantasy.
Allow yourself
the freedom to
         celebrate
        the essence
        of harmony.
When you die,
       it will be
         your dreams
         that are
          remembered.
Breathe.
It's just
      a bad day,
      not a bad life.

Here I am a thousand miles away
Writing you letters I burn every day
Dreaming about the words you don't say
Waiting it out until moments too late.

The only heart
That can be shown
Is the one
That is your own

The only life
That you can give
Is the one
That you live

Yet, the only gift
Of any worth
That you can give
While on this earth

Is not possessions
Or your wealth
But what you gift  
Of yourself
WIZDUMBs BY JA 596

As I watch solemnly the dimming of love's fire
There were rifts we had no time to mend
Pain and regret burnt to ashes on the pyre
You were once the only one I called friend

There were rifts we had no time to mend
My heart grew sad and went on a break
You were once the only one I called friend
While some may have, we couldn't fake

My heart grew sad and went on a break
The hopes we had, replaced with doubt
While some may have, we couldn't fake
We did our best and took the only way out

The hopes we had, replaced with doubt
Pain and regret burnt to ashes on the pyre
We did our best, took the only way out
As I watch solemnly the dimming of love's fire

It's complete euphony
Hearing memorable Melody's.

Remembering from the age
of five and up.

Ma' always warming my milk
with honey in the cup.

Ma' wanted best,
and showed what hard workin was!

Hard workin not slack, was the way her hands had become.

It's complete euphony, hearing her sweet talk before bed

Has it been that many years ago Ma', your sweet lullaby's said.

almost
at breaking point

almost
fleshed out of existence

she caresses
the white hospital cup

as if it were
a soft-feathered fallen dove

frightened and waiting
for a chance to fly again.

© M.L.Emmett