I now have a funky heart,
My nurse calls it a ***** heart.

All seemed well,
And I felt swell-
Until I stood, that is.

The funky heart grooved,
The ***** heart moved.

I fell,
Oh hell-
The nurse's name was Liz.

The doctor told me I'd be fine...
But he cannot feel the pain that is mine.

written December 24, 2014

"As I walked inside the flood of memories came pouring down into the deep depths of my empty stomach
And my heart dropped down with them, when I first saw you
Feeble, exhausted, and glued to your bed
Throat so inflamed that barely any words were said
Wishing things were different, but there's nothing we can do
Besides sit and watch a movie together, inside the hospital room
When you caressed my hand, I felt it straight in my heart
Like a pathway to my happiness, you are the start
Our time was cut short, and I had to say goodbye
Our hands fell from our intertwine, to our sides as I looked you in the eyes for this last time
And said, 'bye'
But don't worry my love, I'll be back soon
And I promise I love you from the ground to the moon (and back)"

My first impression of the children's hospital was how nice everything was. It was new, with fish tanks and red sofas; pastel windows which made pretty colors on the floor when the sun went through them; walls were freshly painted and everyone talked with a smile. Everything just looked so peaceful.
It wasn't until my second visit that I saw the flaws. I was sitting on one of the red couches, waiting for my name to be called, and I was looking at the fish tank. A little girl was pressed up to the glass telling her mother that she could see nemo. But when I looked closer, I saw a little fish turned over floating at the surface. A man behind the glass quickly pulled it out of the tank, but I saw. That's when I started noticing other things. Like the bloodstain on the cushion next to me. And the fact that a few tiles were missing from the floor. The wood paneling had scratches on it; one of the pastel windows was taped up; and every parent was smiling, but the little kids holding on to them kept asking what was wrong.
Maybe that's just how hospitals are. They want you to think that everything's okay; that all that goes on inside are couches and fishtanks. They think that if they write out the word HOSPITAL in bubbly pink letters people might get it into their brains that everything's okay. But that doesn't change the fact that it's a hospital. Masking pain only works for so long, until broken bits and pieces push their way through.
I think hospitals are just fish tanks. Everyone is put on display for doctors and visitors and things seem okay for a while, you know, until they aren't. When a little nemo dies, they send away his body and just replace him with another orange fish that people can look at. We are all the cracks in the pavement; elevators shut down for repair; a phantom pain that nobody wants to believe is real. If you stand far enough away; if you distance yourselves from anything close to the word hospital, you can just let yourself focus on the mask they put up. But once it's time, and you're sitting on a red couch in the lobby of the children's wing, with a kid asking you where her older brother went, you'll find yourself staring at the cracks in the facade with a single tear running down your face and with emptiness in your stomach.

I stare into the facade of the hospital,
and I stub out my cigarette with my rubber soles.
I enter and the air is sterile and the scent of death slowly emerges from the poor souls.
I look around and I see limp bodies in wheelchairs and skinny frames sat on chairs and I suddenly feel out of context, as if I'm an ant who walked into a termite colony.
I find myself in a situation where children are weaving through doctors and nurses trying to make the most of their time.
The window is cracked, and the fish is dead.
The paint worn away and a splatter of blood on the floor underneath my seat.
"Where did my brother go?" A young child asks me.
I suddenly feel clueless with an empty feeling inside yearning to be nurtured. My eyes water and I simply reply,
"I do not know"

In a place where the Saints go
To eternally lift their load
My own Saint had a ticket
For his own road

2:37 sharp
That Saturday afternoon
God made a plan
For you to leave soon

Bedside is where I'll be
Waiting for the moment you flee
Don't fly away my heavenly friend
Promise me you'll see me again?

I once heard a story
Where "Love is watching someone die"
Do you remember the moral?
Waiting for the fateful goodbye?

Plans put on hold
We had quite a few
How long to wait?
I don't know about you...

Bedside is where I'll be
Waiting for the moment you flee
Don't fly away yet my heavenly friend
Promise me you'll love me again?

Whatever god there is hasn't given me enough time
To be satisfied with all of our lustful crimes
But as the LCD tells me you're drifting away
Your second date will be for today

Don't go away
Tell me how you fight fight fight

Bedside is where I was
Dreading that awful moment it paused
I watched you fly away, my heavenly lover
You promised me, that we'd wait for each other

But your promises were as broken as you

My Ma builds fires with logs thicker than herself,
Such a skinny thing bending--
Her weight succumbed to IV drips only three weeks ago
In a white-walled room that smelled of sanitizer and alcohol--
She has felt cold ever since, wrapped up in sweaters and blankets
And sitting so close to the crackle-popping flames
That I fear she will catch fire and burn up,
Gone--I suppose--one way or the other.

A hospital isn't a home
There's no room for emotions - and no space to cry
A hospital isn't a home
There's no hugs and kisses - and no one knows why

A hospital isn't a home
And does anyone really care
A hospital isn't a home
But I can't be anywhere but here

i'm staring at the iv bag
praying it would just
empty faster but i know
that'll do no good and
it'll take at least another
two or three hours and
you're sitting in what
looks to be the most
uncomfortable chair
in the world and i
invite you to lay on
the most uncomfortable
hospital bed in the world
with me but you said you
didn't want to take up too
much space and crush me
but to be honest i don't
think i'd mind being
smothered by you
i'd still love you