Fibromyalgia is a chronic muscle disorder characterized by widespread pain.*

My mother's caramel hued skin has transitioned  
to a much darker shade. Strands of hair gracefully
fall from her scalp as feelings of
agony and helplessness replace her
jocund spirit, destroying the essence  
of who she once was. Her embodiment  
deteriorates alongside her crumbling flesh.
Veins bulge underneath her skin; knots form
below her kneecaps; misery creeps up her spine.
As stridulous moans escape my mother's lips,
I can only offer sympathy. This disease latches on to
anyone within it's reach -- not only targeting
victims but their families as well. Like a predator,
fibromyalgia seeks to control every aspect of her
being – passionately tugging the affected between
the struggle to persevere or succumb to its' insanity.

I wonder if this is how it will end
“Yeah, I remember him”
What more can it be anyway
Just to fit into someone’s life
Even if you didn’t talk for years

Everybody is already there
We’re just playing out the hand now
Somebody new doesn’t stand a chance
They can’t compete with the past
I’m already a made man

If I can stand you for a week
Then that’s a close to love as I get
You can’t suffocate me
That’s why I got rid of the pillows
We’ll lay flat long enough to breathe

What I say is what I think
But the way I turn at any time
Depends on the way time looks at me
I will always consider your feelings
But I’m going to push my personality far

I’m looking for another door
Different than the one I came through
An entrance awaits on the other side
But is it leaving or just passing by
It depends how big the thought is

You finally did what I no longer care about
That’s what twenty years on does to you
I could borrow more money than I’ve made
Somebody trusts me that much
Or is it a trap like when you said I love you?

No words of wisdom can cure
a feeling felt
by the victim so poor.
A killer coming out
before the clock strikes three
stabbing you from the inside
Oh, anxiety

Now you start to feel shaky
And you know
it's another night without sleep
The feeling so nostalgic
Oh, anxiety

Those days were over
Finally
I knew my soul is free
From my body hanging
on the ceiling
Oh, anxiety

Before the thoughts flood in to cloud
your judgment, ushering in rain,
clapping thunder--

Before you are dripping wet--
clothes, and all-- jumping at every
flash and roar of frowning heaven--

Before you give into madness--
reading pessimistic meanings into every absent gesture--

Can you be a little bit more patient? Stand ground a little longer? And maybe--- out of the kindness of your heart--
find out why?

It could be that the heavens break loose to answer the cries of a thirsty earth,
It could be that thunder is poetry in
light and vibrations,
It could be that my fist is clenched to welcome warmth


Can you be patient?
...
and maybe start asking why too?