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Jon Thenes Oct 4
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 8
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 29
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.
Desmond the poet Aug 2018
Those you haven’t victimized fear you.
Mighty and dreadful you seem.
Little do they know, you only seize flesh and control the mind.
You seize not the soul.
Hence be not proud.

You’ve dwelled in me for many years.
Imprisoned me to anti-epileptic drugs.
You’ve dispirited me.
You attack, seize, and control my mind.
Your attacks are but brief.

Epilepsy be not proud.
For I fear not what rescind only flesh.
I fear what abolish both soul and flesh.
Proportional to gravitational force I fell.
I’ve always find the forte to rise.

Epilepsy be not proud.
For against all odds, I’m still alive.
https://m.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends
This poem to show that for as much as I've been epileptic for 32 years I'm still alive because Epilepsy has not managed to **** me.
Makenzie Marie Jul 2018
I am a passenger
In my own body.
Everything’s heavy
Memories spotty.

Working away
On a beautiful day
Until my heart begins to race

Adrenaline pumping
But still I’m exhausted.
Lay down on the floor
Feet up in the sky
Get blood to my brain
And continue on with my night.

An engulfing weight
Holding me tight
Pushing me farther
From consciousness’ light

I can hear you, yes.
All that comes out is a breath.
And then again,
I’m drifting away.
I can hear everything they say.

“Open your eyes”
They flutter, sight blocked
I can not
And again
My vision is spotty
A passenger in my body.
Desmond the poet Jun 2018
Nobody knows how it feels.
How it feels to live in fear.
Fear of not knowing my next seizure.
When, where and how?
Will it be in public or private space?

I fear the inexorableness of epilepsy.
Is the devil you know better than an angel you don’t?
I bet to differ.
I’ve been living with this inevitable monster since childhood.
That’s why anxiety haunts me even in parenthood.
Nobody knows why and how it feels except God.
Just an expression of it feels waking up in the morning not knowing when my next epileptic seizure will come.
Gray Jun 2018
I laugh because it’s over, I joke because it’s over for now.
I laugh and joke so others don’t look at me with pitiful eyes, their pitiful glances with eyes glazed over.
I am not a pity project, I am and will always be “recovering” but that does not mean I am weak.
This could have happened to anyone, my brain did not choose to be ill.
Even if I did not chose this I decided to laugh.
I decided to joke so you would not look at me though pity.
I realize this is a hot mess, my dearest apologies.
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