Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
reminder: sight, sound, smell, taste and physical feeling (touch)

~for yocum~

<>

without our five senses, what purpose, we serve?

hindered from the verification of our existence,
great then the irony then that the scourge announces
its presence by taking our presents, our very present,
coming cat quiet, announcing itself by thieving two,
our ability to smell and taste, that, only the beginning

later it steals speech.
but no need, nothing left to say or even hear, speech’s reciprocal,
the throat filled with the tube of oxygen containing no words,
some call it breathing, me, I call it a slower, ungentle, silenced dying

the medications are for the pain,
making the eyes sleep a neutered constant in a closeted body,
still, better not to see your own desiccated withering,
but all this, even this,  I could tolerate!

but not to feel your touch,
oh god, give me that!
sensing your touch informs that I, still, I am!
touching you confirms I am greater than my ossified body!

the sense of your skin means this,
that I will live even if death relieves my entirety
but no, touching is forbidden most of all,
and I am inconsolable, gone the greatest pleasure


the first is the last final sense taken,
now it’s too late to turn the other cheek,
I touch myself, but it’s evidence of nothing, cause
now that I’m dead, my only pleasured sense remaining is

my inconsolability,
the last remaining sentry,
the immortal and final
guardian of my heart
11/14/2020 11:17am
For a long time I tried
To hold on to these tears
All the while realizing
How each drop is a part of me
I could have saved

Dear and close to my heart
Are each memory I have of you
All undeniably good times
And they only get better and better
As time regrettably pass

I would not want to waste another day
Crying on the thought of us
Daydreaming maybe, just maybe
You would eventually find your way
Back to me, again

We could have been a beautiful story
Two platonic worlds colliding
But fantasies will always be
As disappointing as the life
I am struggling to live
i used to think that
i wasn’t the main
character of my
own story.
i’ve learned
that i am-
it’s just a really
messed up story
What am I?
I do not know;
This thing inside
is beating, though.
© 16/03/2019
Sooner or later the fire that i love about you is gonna turn my heart into ashes.
 Apr 2020 solace and sorrow
Born
Life happened
And dust settled on silence
Nothing could be said
Nothing could be heard

But memories
Could be felt
Next page