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Sarah Boon Apr 2017
We live in a superficial world
of shattered identities
and
a loss of reality

my senses are
Numb

We do not know what it is to feel :
anything

sadness
has died
in cipralex

anxiety
has drowned
in clonazepam

my cheap, glass arm
was about to break
in the basement of a house
that i tried so hard to call home

I am
utter
sheer
nonsense

we will live together,
and I,
I will die alone
Alan S Bailey Mar 2017
I slip and fall, behold the water all around, this daze, the overlit tiny
space, hospital, looking at me, doctors piercing gaze.
This is it! I feel their needles pierce my side, fill me with that which
will put out my lights.
I scream and in a rush they tilt my head back and let the pills
go down my throat. I was the one who got myself trapped
by this modern castle moat.
Should have known better, but still I cry, this is it, I'll set fire
to the skies, and no one will ever again sing me sterile lullabies!

*Tick
Tock
Clock
Years
Fears
Covered the empty bed sheets
Tears
Vague memories burned into my skull
Like a flashing bulb
****
All pain is gone
The chills
Spills
Backwards
Slipping into a near coma
From my FREE drug induced state
Speeding heart rate, and yet you,
Sifting through bottles
For that one last pill
To free your cowardly self
From having any free will.
James Cumberland Feb 2017
"We are the witnesses to how alike all men bleed."*
Man our easel, we stretch clean canvas over scarlet brushstrokes,
We work stitchings like guitar strings,
find a melody in the mending,
hide scars like bass, in clean skin,
and hide the pain from each ending.
Their lungs sing.

An alto for death's row,
its sound makes your heart slow.
Let's see what you have inside,
with open eyes, your mother cried,
in toupe-walled rooms, we cut the cord,
no savage mark by a doctor's sword.

Just silence and sadness,
greyness and madness,
long halls and dancers,
small windows and glances.
Carolyne McNabb Sep 2016
You only get one body,
and that body defines what you can do.
You only get one body
and oh how I wish they were tradeable too.
There's a ninety percent chance
I'd trade with you.
Allow me to clarify that
I am not sick in the least.
Just try to understand my pain, please.

The doctors told me that I have
Fibromyalgia- a musculoskeletal pain
with no cure, only temporary escapes.
They also say my skin tissue lacks
the ability to properly connect-
leaving my skin mottled and easily bruised.
I have scholiosis.
My spine is susceptible to twists
and contractions-
pinching the nerves between each vertebrae.
As I write this,
my neck... the bones are deteriorating.

I have started my adventure now
and I am finding joy wherever I can
because I know
I am destined to be crippled, my friend.

Not only has the doctor
given me a clock.
He has offered me a challenge.
At least I know what I'm in for,
and I accept.
To sum up, I've been diagnosed with scholiosis, fibromyalgia, and degenerative arthritis. I've started seeing a chiropractor who hopefully will be able to help me. Yoga helps too ^_^
SøułSurvivør May 2016
Poets, like doctors, know the anatomy of suffering... tearing the paper with rusty carving knives...

We see scarlet scratches and eggplant colored bruises on every square inch of foolscap... we open scars with words... stainless steel scalpels which we never sanitize...

We perform open heart surgery with blunt instruments... We cauterize the wounds with coals of Fire...

We are civil war sawbones, removing the gangrenous leg to save the body... Carrying out our task with whiskey bottle anaesthesia.

So have a care... The Doctor Is In.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/30/2016
Inspired by Dawn and her poem
"Ink-Stained Glass"
serpentinium May 2016
advice for future doctors:

1. learn failure early.
you are not perfect,
and your patients need
you to be–

but you aren’t and all
those nights spent awake
will haunt you with ghosts
tucked in hospital gowns

2. learn empathy like it’s
your body under the scalpel,
your skin pulled back and
exposed under white light

scratch at invisible scars,
recall the feeling of metal
against your chest, and shiver
at the touch of another

3. learn to cry anywhere,
whether it be between
floors in a hospital
built like a morgue

or in your car, going
too fast with tired eyes
down an empty road that
you wouldn’t mind dying on
i'm only pre med-- but these are the thoughts i have so far
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