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she ceased
seaside shell sales
seeing as she suffered
several severe seizures
sitting supposedly safely
by the seashore
inspired by a lyric in the pagan babies (band courtney love was in) song best sunday dress - "No more seizures by the sea"
Calla Fuqua Dec 2019
All I see are the insides of my eyelids.
All I hear are muffled sounds of people
Panicked by the sight of my unruly body.
Shifting in and out of what I think to be real,
Flickering on and off,
Someone is playing with the lights.

Someone touches me  
I want to touch back

Hello?

And again.

Who is touching me?

They stop.

Desperate for touch,
I grasp for something that’s not there.
I collect nothing but air in my hands.


     Touch touch touch
Touch something!
Touch anything!
Proctor Ehrling Nov 2019
A relapse is beginning
With the walls thinning
Wanted to write a poem about alcoholism, but this is the only line I ended up liking in the whole thing, cause the poem itself is just too on-the-nose.
neth jones Oct 2019
featherweight

with more heat than light
more feast, than a violence
we found a clamour


together

drunk tank, we tackled
battered at one and the other
we mashed in pleasing


years

we dedicated
fractured time manufactured
sot saturated


employed

misfunctional us
trussed ; brace pinned neat by the heels
whatever be, come


glitched

the floor-riding fits
upturned, revealing sickness
now observed and prone


hold hands

treated far apart
separate medical cots
in damage we bed
Tori Mar 2019
Sleepless dreaming, framed by screaming.
Is she breathing?
Take the time.
One. Two. Three.
I wonder…
Four. Five.
Is death kind?
Six. Seven.
Will she make it?
Eight. Nine.
Never mind.
Marble eyes roll in their pockets,
Arms and legs seizing their sockets,
Groaning breath sends lips aquiver,
Her tiny figure writhes and shivers.
Ten. Eleven
How much longer?
Twelve. Dear God!
Let her be stronger.
A Toneless voice of mock assurance,
Won’t deter these pulsing currents,
Tongues detained by ball and chain,
Massage the air to ease the pain.
Thirteen comes.
Now slowly, easy.
Fourteen.
The sound of gentle breathing.
Dimple-drawn, her mouths sweet boarders,
Pull that weak smile from its cask,
Inhale relief, a hard won nectar,
Her limbs all leaded from their task.
One nod from death,
one swift departure
and for the moment, all is fine.
The clock's cold hands
continue turning,
So don't forget to take the time.
Egeria Litha Jan 2019
Sun rays poking from the windows
I can't get my head off this pillow
stale air in this room and I'm holding my breath
anxiety attempts to control what occurs next
then a seizure erupts in my head

Hits the glitch
in my automatic mask
I show for the world
and all those thoughts
I can't hold in my brain space
Desmond the poet Aug 2018
It’s a good day the lord granted.
Everything seems so perfect.
Weather is sweet.
Sun’s shining.
What could go wrong?

…….Until…..

I felt you coming.
Like a hijacker through a rear view mirror.
How I wish for a false alarm.
Dear lord may this cup pass.
A moment to accept the inevitable arrived.

Oh my God! you seized me once again.
You came like a thief at midnight.
You hijacked my mind.
You exposed me to wrath of migraines.
Horrible 30 seconds in a 24hour day.
It's like a small stain on a white garment.

The cruelty of an epileptic seizure is inevitable.
https://m.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends
This an expression of how a 30seconds encounter with with an epileptic seizure can ruined the whole 24hour day.
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