I want to write a poem
But I don't know what to write.
I'm such a broken doll
I wish I could make this rhyme
But nothing works in my mind
Well except those two lines
Well now it's three
Oops

My Brian isnt really working right now
Oops spelling error I mean brain
That probably proves just how little my brain wants to work
I think I might be in denial.
I've probably been in denial all day.
But once I finally got there
The denial went away

Now I'm crying
I was crying in the ICU
And I'm crying now.
In the waiting room.
I want to put my words down onto this page.
I want to make this page my stage
I want to pour my emotions into this piece
But I can't seem to get it right
Seeing as this poem barely rhymes
Not that a poem ever has to rhyme.

I read her one of my poems while I talked at her.
Well I should say talked to her
But she couldn't respond.
She was trying.
I know she was trying.
But it didn't really work.
She had, I think it's called a respirator, down her throat.
So she couldnt speak a single note.

I think I'm going to go back in soon.
My dad is talking to her alone.
They say there's only a 50% chance she'll make it through the night
And everyone says they're praying
But I'm not quite sure who to pray to.
So I don't pray.
I just hope
And I believe in her
I trust that if she wants to fight and make her way back that we will.
And I hope that that's what she wants.

I feel like I never really spent any time with her now.
I feel like I barely know her.
I feel like when it comes down to it.
We don't really know each other.
When I first found out she was in the hospital,
I was getting ready for school.
I had to get to band at 7
And it was already 6:40
I needed to hurry.
So when I heard them talk about it
I wasn't sure what to say

There's been some scares before but it always turned out okay.
But now they say it's worse
Now my family is coming into town.
My family doesn't talk.
We aren't close.
We only speak if necessary
We do the least, not the most.
The fact that they are coming
Leaves me in shock

Is this the last time I'll see her?
I don't know
I have hope that she'll make it.
She keeps trying to talk
I'm sure it will all be alright I guess
But I can't help but worry.

Honestly sometimes I miss it
The friends
The food
The care
But then I remember how nice it was to walk outside
How weird it was to walk into a store by myself
How odd it was to have access to knifes
Everyone says they care
And for the most part they do
But you're the only one that has to deal with the darkness all the time
I miss the constant care
People making sure I was safe
Now I have to make sure I'm safe
And as much as I want to be alive
I want to be dead
But it's okay because struggling means I'm living and I can't loose anything by living
Dying will always be there

Winter
I know it's coming
Yet still it surprises
Catches me off balance
It's ferocity
It grinds all things
To a standstill
I step outside and marvel at its might
At a world upended
Abandoned
I am alone
Gale force winds
Are no match
For the crushing weight
Of winters silence

Winter
Is something we knew
was coming
Such dire predictions
Predicated with vague hopes
That it may not come
Or be like this
Still we prepare
For my winter
No, our winter
Although I fear it
Drains the warmth from us both
And shake as I might
I will not be able to warm you
In the cold winter night
I am still
Twitching
Restless and rummaging
For what I do not know

Winter
I wish to run out and greet you
Fly upon your winds
And float upon your back
Flee into your cold
And starkness and silence
Eyes tearing
Heart pounding
Lungs searing as
Icy hands pillage them
My frozen facade
Shattered
Fragmented
scattered
By a laugh
sparkling
bits of me
To show you
I am
still

It's the middle of the night
I should sleep
But there is no rest
Stillness comes only
in vivid dreams
Where I'm paralyzed
in primal fear
I cry out
racing thoughts
Seeking escape
Scatter about
Like marbles on a ship
Caught in perpetual tempest
On a sea without horizon
I Gather them up
With cold trembling hands
These agitated aggies
Mutinous thoughts
Don't abandon me now
In the middle of the night

Frozen
That's the best I can do
To describe it
This feeling
Mid sentence
Mid thought
I'll come to a standstill
The words I'm certain
I was about to say
Now MIA
Their abscence
Acutely felt
Tiny waves of panic
Ripple thru my brain
Where have they gone
And what will I do
Without them
Or this
Or that
A feeling of being
Tantalizing close
To some sort of epiphany
Only to find myself suddenly
Somehow transported
Extraordinary rendition
To this fugue state
How did I get here
A refuge
From my own thought process
Frantically searching for
Familiarity
A willow wisp of words
That left me stranded
Here
Alone
Speechless
I will not accept defeat
For the words
My tongue cannot reach
I will find them
And they will move
Cognitive dissidents
Poetry is
A daring escape
A window onto my mind
An act of Self defenestration

Shake the man's hand
No, not a just a man.
A doctor
A neurologist
Shake the Doctor's hand
He gave you something
He gave you Parkinson's
No, he did not
He gave you what you wanted
He gave you a diagnosis
He is smiling
He does not have Parkinson's
I know this Because
he can smile
He smiles all the time
Not a very big smile
He is hard to read
Not really smiling all the time
Perhaps we are not so different

I should shake my head
Yes
No
Give some sign
I am here
Am I here?
Yes
Somewhere deep down inside
It is hard to get out
Takes energy
Energy I do not feel i have
To escape
Outside
Escape
Out of me
Escape
Out of my mouth
Here I am

I don't know when you got here
Or how
I can only guess
Part genetic stowaway
Sure, maybe
Or you leaked in
Through one of a couple
Of cracked helmets
Either way
You're here now
And it's been so long
I can scarcely remember
A time without you
I can scarcely
Remember
Period
It's a fuzzy feeling
Not warm
Mind you
Or cold
I can't handle extremes anymore
Just fuzzy
My memories
When you got here
When I left
What's left that's me
And what's a
Symptom
Or side effect
Who I am
Who I was
How much
How long
Have you been
Orchestrating
This shakedown

Clack clack clack clack
Bing zzzzzzzzzzzpppp
That's the sound it makes
Not Parkinson's
My typewriter
That's the sound it will make
When I type up this
I really don't know what sound
Parkinson's would make
I really don't care
Ha ha
That's ironic
Apathy is a symptom of Parkinson's
I've just used against it
So yeah, I will sit at the typewriter
And clack this out
It will make my fingers hurt and cramp
It will take effort for us both
Stubborn old machines
I will bend you to my will
And when time comes
To stuff me on a shelf
Broken machine
Obsolete
I will have wrung
Every last bit of creativity
Out of us
**** yeah
That's the type of person
I am

I stare down the beach
Past the sand
It's gradient
Shifting from light to dark
Dry and fluffy
to wet and hard
Past the water line
Where children Play
summer games
Where summer is
Still a verb
Past the tiny frigid waves
That quickly conquer
The body
Past the buoys
That trigger
Shrill whistles
For errant swimmers
Testing boundaries
Past the powerboats
Racing
towards the  Weekend
Past the improbable *******
Momentary refuge
As temporary
as a beautiful
Summer day
Past the sailboats
And their
Loitering indifference
Past them all
to the horizon
An illusion
Of affinity
A paradoxical
Infinity
where cobalt skies
And azure seas
Conspire
To never meet