she's sitting right next to me
taking in the hospital smell
all over my clothing.
i pity her,
for i know it's so hard to be burdened by
another person's illness.
"i'm sorry," i tell her.
for the ***** on my bedsheets,
the poison in my blood,
and the errors in my brain.
the tobacco in my fingernails,
the rips in my skin,
the bullets in my torso.