The last time I was sick throwing up pints of ick not once did I think of love or anything above that porcelain refuge the object of my deluge.
Being sick focuses the brain on the body’s strain chains freedom to pity makes one feel so bitty all you can see is the floor to the *** hoping you’ll be in time to squat.
Next morning when I hope it’s passed questions arise in me to ask what if this pause in my health is no pause but a demise of the wealth I’ve so long taken for granted and I’ll be forever stuck and disenchanted.
Scarcity focuses the brain like drought makes you ache for rain or poverty narrows your sight to the very next meal or bite what you don’t have in hand makes you do anything you can
makes you shout and sing for that longed-for thing you look hither and yon for what seems so far gone. Then you must work on relearning to let go of sick yearning.
Written after a night and morning of the upchucks. Writing this also brought reflections on some other things I've been thinking about lately. Funny how poetry brings together seemingly disparate things.
Breaking hearts with thoughts of people Crying out for water Thirst has dared them to commit crimes While we flush litres
All the news we see isn't all there is Many left unnoticed, undiscovered Craving for a single drop of liquid While some plan wars on regions
Did you let the human out of your soul? Do you dare to help the needy instead? Dare to ignore the profits off of wars fought? Dungeons dwell on people like you
Thousands of people starve to death every year. WHO is not the only organisation that should focus on needy countries. Somalia and several regions in Africa are thriving for food and water. The news we see aren't the only suffering, there could be many undiscovered places where people die without water.