Too much cancer
Too much death
Too much sickness
I need a breath

Too much torment
Too much pain
Too little sunshine
Too much rain

Too many tears
Welling up
Too many people
Yet not enough

Too much heartache
Can’t take a breath
Too much cancer
Too much death

He died last night, our cheerful boy.
His body wasted. Skin draped in veins
of blue and black, and bones which
sought to burst apart his life...

His weakened breath. His stare which
scared us to the core, since he was there,
but not as who he was just two days before...

His mother stopped her tears hours ago...

Ah, my boy. My boy! If only I had seen.
This raging virus, in so much rumour,
yet spread so fast, like unchecked
tumours... and I let you loose, to play
in that sun... to have your fun...

WHY?! WHY GOD?! Is it not right that
you should have taken me? That the
light in my eyes should be torn away,
and I lay awake, delirious, bones
splintering under my very skin...

But as always... God doesn't answer.
He just stares at us, occasionally
poking us into reaction.

He died just last night... My boy. One second breathing. The next... silence.

I will never be able to get that silence
from out of my mind..

i wonder
how long will it take for me to die?
how long will the pain last
in my mind
in my bones.
oh i feel it everywhere,
it reverberates in my body,
my tiny, weak and frail little body.
how long will it persist
in scarring me
front and back.

my mind, a strong fortress.
so full of imagination and thoughts
beyond your wildest dreams,
maybe in them too.
intoxicated with love and adoration
for people and their souls.
their beautiful and intricate thoughts.

but my body
eating itself alive
and rejecting itself.
beating itself with a hammer.
like self harm,
but it hurts both of us.

but i love it so much,
i take such good care of it
i try so hard...
i try so hard to be gentle
and give it all love i can find.
i know no one treats you very well,
but i try so hard.

is it not enough?

am i not enough, again?

The man waits patiently, twitching his hands every other second
He stands in a strong posture, but his skin is dead white
The look of sadness on his face, echoed by the tears in his eyes
As he thinks it through, he wonders what he could have done differently
Now he looks away every time the patient room door opens
His hair is slowly fading, as he kneels down to pray
He starts to make phone calls, reassuring his family that he is alright
All of the sudden the door opens, He silently looks up as the results are read
His ear tune out the one word that he prayed he would never have to hear.

learning to surrender your body
unwillingly
is not easy.

it feels like you're separating,
body and soul becoming detached.
it's not giving it to your love,
to be cradled in sweet delicate human arms.

instead you feel as though
no human arms can hold you,
because you are a shell corpse
with a conscience and some appearance.
like you're impersonating someone,
with the disease as the main body
human is second in command.

learning to surrender your body
unwillingly
is not easy.

it's learning to be dependent.
it's learning to know you aren't always in control.
it's learning to acknowledge your aren't always okay,
and learning to be okay with that.