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Eve K Jun 2022
I'm surfing, along the coastline.
The waves pulling me in, my strength pushing me out.
Music in one ear, shouting in the other.
I breathe, a breath of salty air. It settles in my lungs and I choke.
Sometimes the salt can clear the alveoli and make it easier to breathe,
But not today.

Today the air is heavy. Clouds pour down single droplets but when altogether, it is a storm. The wind howls, burning my ears. Whispering that it's all too much.

I crave a fall into the ocean, pulled out to sea. It's become too much and I'm drowning.
But I'm not drowning. I float. I float with tears mixing into the salty water. I can feel the undercurrent begging me to come down to it so it can pin me down to the sea bed where I can hold my last breath and breath again.
But it's not breathing it's drowning and the thought makes me thrash around and I panic.
So instead, I panic on top of the water, thrashing and jerking around desperately trying not to drown.

The skies will become clear again. The stormy skies will reveal the blue which is always there. The stars are still shining underneath the despairing clouds. They are always there, just hidden at times.

All I have to do is breathe with the waves and stay afloat till the storm goes away.
over the past few years, I have experienced so many things as a nursing student working in a rest home and now the hospital. There's days, weeks, months where I struggle. The emotional overload of having to see the worst positions people are in. Sometimes it's hard to find hope again in these times. Especially when surrounded by death and despair and dying. It's not going to get easier but that's why I become more resilient. But it's also important to take moments when things are too tough to just sit with the feelings. Otherwise I will drown.
Megitta Ignacia Apr 2022
Eighty years young
Speaking in tounge

Your body fought
Head full of bizarre thought

Arms and legs restrained
How are you not frightened

Are they violent, Yah?
We tried, everything,
for the shake of your revival

I can't bear to see you like this
I wish you are dismiss

Heavily sedated & exhausted
To tired to wrestled & agitated
Lord please take his pain away
090422 | 18:28 in Borromeus ICU's waiting room. Dari kemarin dadakan dari kantor langsung ke airport ke bandung. Ayah kritis. I go bcs mama papa minta langsung ke bdg. It's painful to see him like this. God give him mercy please.
neth jones Apr 2022
modern behemoth building of the sterile
herded human
              remains in sickness
compartmental

racked for our chemical curing
                          treat-meat

this building is only a single day of abandon
                   away from natural reclamation
taunts are made in the wings
the ants enter and leave freely
drain moth flies frequent most water sources in the building
rodents are at the door
rabbits and groundhogs tunnel in the lawns
hawks circle above using the buildings heat
           the wild world
        allowing our inclusion
   for at least one more hospital stay
neth jones Mar 2022
the lumy screen
x-ray mission
counting ribs
    but courting what's in-between
trying to salvage disease
    from the pardonable cage
use corrective attractors
drag them on the screen
    and mould a mange of the dark spots
humble in an alcove
zoom in on the spot
take out your little skin leafed
pocket book
clean the cough from your throat
    and sprout  'the working words of God'
a congregation of cancer cells
    put in their place
medicine
neth jones Mar 2022
begin the day ; a **** taught of features
in need of clean linen,
    unswallowable meds
    and a diaper change
routine ; that'll teach ya !

they ask her the day of the week
   her name
what year it is
   when is your birthday ?
do you feel any pain ?
   do you know where you are ?

flailing in memory
they just turn off the overheads
  and let her settle into her senility
attend to the physical basics
whilst she's suckered into her own storage unit
  operating like a humming fridge
   with its door slight ajar
    and the small hot bulb
     finking on and winking off

                      - perish well 
                       & in comfort Dear
Cassandra Mar 2022
it was grasping at the air when your throat closes love.
drive down and back in a snowstorm panic,
only to ***** at the sight of blood and stool,
so just say yes kind of closeness.
i always struggled with the difference between
need and want.
maybe I just wanted to be needed.
skeletons didn't hide in closets in our house.
they were out in the open for me to bathe and feed
and for the skeletons to grab my *** and call me cute,
and ***** me when they wanted,
and it was fine and we were
Happy.
what is the difference between a hospital bed and a couch?
there is no punchline.
i'm bad at jokes.
what's the difference between a joke and playing house?
i'm bad at jokes.
so when something hit the floor a little too hard
i simply walked away until it was picked up again
when i returned.
so when you sat in a house filled with smoke
i would try to pull you to safety until
the weight of you made my arms numb.
so when you told me you didn't know how to cry
i would kiss you just a little too hard to see if you'd bleed
and you learned that was how to kiss me back.
i'd pretend it didn't hurt, then come back with
Do you want a time out?
Don't talk back to your mother now
(unless its in bed, and you really want to try it,
and its always been a dream of yours, and you won't feel whole again until I remind you that you are, and you haven't been able to feel like this in years, and pretty please?)
(i'd say never, until i said,
fine
just once.
i didn't hate it
i guess).
giving became the only way to strengthen your sinews
my body was somewhere between the size of housewife and pornstar,
adjusting as needed to fill in any crack in the wall
left by an aimless controller or fist,
the fatty tissue to replace anything your aching body lost
and was trying to find in the empty space you left
between rage and apathy.
i was choking on hospital food
and grabbed for something so i could breathe.
what's the difference between loving and dying?
i'm bad at jokes.
Eros Mar 2022
Our nights were together when we met
We watched movies when we couldn't sleep
Cloud Atlas was your favorite
We ate pocky as well
Specifically Strawberry
A few times you snuck out to see me
You left the place you were trapped in for me

One of the most memorable moments
Was when I told you it was snowing
You told me that you saw snow all the time
My heart broke

The last night we talk you said you couldn't sleep
I laid with you and fell asleep
Not knowing what I'd wake up to the next morning
Gracie Anne Jan 2022
The urgent care is the nursery
Where I choose my seeds with thought.
The doctor is the gardener
Who knows how to fix what I’ve wrought.

She sows the seeds inside my skin,
Yet not with a trowel or ***.
She uses a needle and surgical thread,
With budding knots lined up in a row.

Then she leaves me with my tidy ground
And some knowledge on how I should care
For the lined up plot she’s left to me,
Whose potential I’m required to bear.

The deep rivet I slashed into my skin
Is where the seedlings take root.
The blood from my veins keeps them moist
As the new blossoms stand resolute.

But when the weather grows dark and dreary,
My sprouts need cover from the cold.
So I bundle them up with jeans and sweats
To protect them and let them take hold.

But despite the layers I pile atop,
The small spiny blooms poke through.
I run my fingers back and forth,
And marvel at how fast they grew.

Then after they’ve grown for fourteen days,
I return to the nursery at last.
The gardener plucks and prunes and picks
‘Til the wounds and the blooms come to pass.

So now the perennials have passed us by,
And the sprouts have been taken to bin.
The wound that watered my seedlings’ through,
Has left but a scar on my skin.
This poem was inspired through the stitches I received on my thigh due to self harm. When I wore leggings or sweats, the knotted string would poke through the material, reminding me of a garden.
Coralium Dec 2021
It’s strangely busy around the deathbeds,
as well it’s my last nightshift of the year.
I try to make no noise, can you hear me?
Push my hand, if you can, move a limb.
Your breath is so slow, please keep going,
monitors flash in time with the ventilator.
I’ll control the pupils, I know it’s blinding.
No one goes with their sparkling old eyes,
we are usually fading before we are dying.
Alienpoet Dec 2021
The feel of the pen
on the paper
the poet grabs a verse.

the dripping of morphine
the flow of endorphins
flow of electronic lines
across the monitor
let’s hope we don’t flatline

this mere mortal
needs a portal to the stars
this mere mortal needs
defibrillation to the heart
the way the poetry forms
in the lungs and the mind
the way life needs beauty
is sometimes unkind

I am the blood transfusion
the illusion
of poems
bells chime
Electrons flow
Radioactive  X-rays know
Poetry opens doors

I am the emergency poet
I will take flight
in flames
never shall I be tamed
But I will make that heart beat
and get you out of your seat
And on the road to recovery
and discovery

Because poetry heals
and steals back our songs
what could go wrong?
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