A mangled bird slumps in her gilded cage
Surrounded by opulence and feasts she cannot savor
Golden bars festooned with rolling joints and popping bones
A doll sewn by a child's hand
Pull her thread as she buckles like a blueberry
Blood
A viscous syrup in her legs
Sticky confluence
Heartbeat like a hummingbird
The nectar would likely cause an eruption of glowing pink hives
A rosy sanguine sea
Vision blurring
Rumination like hands on a clock
Round and round
Living days like
Copy, paste
Groundhog's Day
Oh, look, it's night again
Ice packs and Epsom baths
Erratic dreams
The clock resets
Oh, joy, it's day again

My body betrayed me in ways I never thought possible
I can’t eat, I can’t emote, I can’t exist
Not without itching, tingling, wheezing, gasping for air
I’m rapidly losing control over my life
My world was already so small—and now it’s getting smaller
The list of foods I can’t eat is growing as my will to keep going…shrinks
Why must struggles beget even more struggles?
Why can’t I be allowed to be happy?
Exist in a beautifully carefree manner?
My spirit screams to express but my body says no
You’re not allowed
All I can do is tearfully write my feelings on a page while I agonize at all I have lost and will lose
I am missing out on the human experience I crave
I just want to be well
I want to breathe easy
I want to be healed
Yet I am here, in my bubble, alone
Forever