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Flush the anger
Flush the pain
Flush the indifference

Intake
Single pill of divine diuretics

If you need more,
Then,
Let me prescribe,
SOS.
Theme: Humanizing Medicine. [World Kidney Day,  2018. Kidney N’ Women’s Health: Include, Value, Empower. March 8th.] Note: SOS means as per need.
3AM, one night of May 25
Run out of fuel to move around
“Imbalance, impatient”, was I.
Called a Dr, to get some help
Wondered, “what is your problem?”
Umm, “I never know what peace is.”
Fatigue, swelling, loss of memory
Feeling low and much more, all I get.

Achievement of life
Umm, gaining 3 pounds of weight every month
Blood work was out of range,
Homeostasis was not on my side
Felt of lost in transition,
Between Heaven and ****.

“Dr., am I going to die?”
Tempting to release the constant fear
****** arguments that haunt every time.

“Calm down, it’s not too late”,
“Don’t escape from the realms of reality”,
“Let the awareness spread”,
“Fight, support and advocate”,
“Seek a path of peaceful harmony”,
“Let’s make 25th May, bigger”,
He said.
Genre: Clinical
Theme: On 25th May, it's World Thyroid Day
Diary filled with,
Test strips
Carb counts
Calorie graphs
Old reports
Appointments
Hotlines
Expenses of a bills
This can be life, all about.

A contempt face,
With a sweetened blood
Scrolling a display to dial
Curiosity of hypo and hyper,
A big nightmare
Obesity in gene
Sedentary chills,
Sympathetic rush,
Diabetes, by default.
Defective B-cell
OHA on trial
Complications close by,
A vial of longevity, stand by
1/2/3/4/5, shots a day
Seems everything is ok
Elemental peace
Though, to be precise,
With a sugary comfort, future is diabetic.
Genre: Clinical
Theme: World Diabetes Day, Nov 14
Next,
May I know your problem?
“I feel Pain.”
Where?

Here
Here
Here
Everywhere.

With smile she answered.

Whether I examined her, or
I got examined.

Though,
We were on Par.

Smile returned.
Part of my everyday life.
I’m a mess

Depressed

Reckt

Can’t Recollect

When I last felt sane

This dysfunctional brain

Hates me so much

And while I used to have a crutch

The drugs are gone

Now for so very long

No longer numb

Bending over, getting bummed

No escape

From this metaphorical ****

All I can do is close my eyes

Pretend I’m high

Distract myself

And for my health

Send myself away

To a place where I’ll stay

Until I’m ready to return

Until the sunlight no longer burns

I pray

For this day

When I can walk from here to there

Without beginning to stare

In disbelief at the people

Who I only see as sheeple

The day I become one of them

The day I no longer need these chems

Or maybe they’ll pump me full

Of their pharmaceutical bull

And while I might be stuck on those

At least I tried and chose

Instead of falling back

Powerless to react

Answering impossible questions

With narcotic mind extensions
Twilight Zone May 2014
I wonder if I am a poet or a writer.
I keep on wondering if I am either.
I can't rhyme or meter the heart.
My characters have become stick figures.
Thoughts heal in the clinic of my mind.
The lazy rhythm of a pencil's tap.
Metaphors manipulate my mind.

I wonder if I am a poet or a writer.
I keep on wondering if I am either.
I can't rhyme or meter the heart.
My characters have become stick figures.
My structure is a state on the map.
My metaphors need a pocket Gps.
My rhythm has gone below speed limit.
P.s. Problem solved ; ) I'm a dreamer
then reader, writer and poet! I have learned
a lot from this post!

— The End —