Death is like a vulture
that sits just far enough away,
that I can see it scrabbling closer
through my pain confused eyes.
My pain is like a schoolyard punk
who, with relentless pokes and jeers,
and the deep need to run away,
tortures me.
How can i run away from myself?
Long, long days and days with fractured sleep
leave me brittle and hallucinating.
What is there to fear beyond the pain?
The clanging gong of pain..
The shooting electrics of pain...
The pull and drag of pain...
The tremendous weighted ache of pain?
And if I love you, I will love you
with all my pain.
that's all that's left.