I step in a space
Between time
Breath in
The same scents of eons ago
No matter how much changes
I remain anchored
In a ceremony timeless

I dream of
Dying
Stepping into the lonely dark
Embracing
The call of oblivion
But
Dreams are just dream
I hold
No wistful longing
For the void

Standing is an oddly
Tenuous
Thing; so easy to
Fall when not paying
Attention and oh
How your laugh
Knocks me over and
Drags my eyes towards
You; falling is
Worth seeing the warmth of your
Smile

Empty space
Is odd
I am both attracted and
Repulsed
By blank paper
So much potential
Do I marr it
With empty words
Are my scribbles
Worth anything?
I
Do not know
Yet
I write anyway

Chronic illness isn’t
Some beautiful
Pale
Girl sitting under a tree,
Book in hand.
It’s no romantic tragedy
Or heartfelt tear-jerker
It’s
Sitting on the floor of your bedroom
2 am
Trying not to cry because
You wanted to be in bed three hours ago
Your body didn’t.
It’s
Obsessively tracking every
Food and drink
Symptom and medication
It’s
Juggling four doctors and work
All at once
It’s
Trying not to *****
Struggling to stand
Fighting
To exist

Believing yourself to be
Worthless
Is a horrible
Horrible
Thing
You live
And yet
You do not think yourself
To be deserving of being
Alive
For why
Should a useless thing
Exist

Beauty is pain
The slogan sold to
Millions
But, if beauty is
Pain
How am I not radiant
Having suffered
So much
In such a short life