The words build up inside like a tumor,
Ignorance will make them mean—
Spare my heart / spare my lungs
The song 'What If' is on repeat.
Regrets of the past / fears of the future / anxiety of the present
A tumor never leaves—
Healing is temporary.
Coughing up blood / letters interlaced in red
It’s a disease to keep it inside,
It’s a curse to let them fly—
I must write outside of my skin.

24 begins with its cruel rule:
"No sustenance or quenching of thirst
until the sad/happy day passes."

Caring women with initials enter
Poking, prodding, asking the same questions,
While loved ones nervously watch.

Close friends, friends, and strangers
Phone and visit, offering their comforting words.
"We love you."  "We're praying for you."
"Make a pact with God."  "Chin up!"  "Happy Birthday!"

Their messages intermingle with disquieting thoughts
Of hopes and dreams left unfulfilled.
"Why me?"  "What now?"  "I knew it was too good to be true."
As hunger gnaws, and expectation is postponed.

A caring woman with initials enters one last time,
Poking, prodding, asking the same questions,
As the pushers of the bed arrive with their benign smiles.

Unwanted darkness returns,
As uncommon mortals work at their bizarre craft,
Opening the golden bowl,
Exposing its precious contents.

East and West Coast loved ones,
Separated by time and circumstance,
Carry on their prayerful vigil.

As 24 continues,
Surrounded by love,
Sustained by hope.

Cage affixed to my head
Needle stuck in my vein
You must not move an inch
My dear, you're still allowed to
Breathe.

Quiet, frantic heart.
You’re causing me to
Shake.
I know it’s strange and loud and dim
But listen. Hear that soft
Music

Dare you not sneeze
Or scratch that itch now
Rest your eyes, close your shutters
Lie still as a corpse, just one more half-hour

Bang. Crash. Wail.
Please stop, my skull aches
How cool the serum flows
Perhaps the music found my clothes
and ushered me on home

The doctor calls to me now -  mouth dry
Let us discuss your brain.
Inside a tumor lies, no surprise,
Allow me to explain
This lump, it sleeps, 'tis quite petite
And most believably benign.

Trembling beneath my hands
If I could I would rip it out of you,
Your pain, your cries,
But the tumor metastasizes.

Tumor never die.
Tumor holding on tight,
Tight to the very foundation of our lives,
You.

You are everything,
The first and my last each day,
The distant prays all aimed towards you,
Let him be okay,

Trembling beneath my hands,
Holding tight unable to release,
The tumor clinging to you from beneath.

I sang to you, my son, until I ran out of breath
And sang to you again as I gave you to death.
I've been stuck in house arrest
Because I've given you to death.
I declare my degree in your grief
But I sing to you...
"I-I-I have never lo-o-oved someone,
the wa-ay I love you-u-u"

A lament for your bending brain descent
With energy so pure, unsure and in the moment
With disorient movement on legs bent
Or were they wings?
It was hard to tell on the descent.

Yet, something eternal was created
At your birth and at your death
Your heart was too big for your chest
We wept together over it,
Over your death,
As there was no preparation for the separation
Your rotation of cognation
Gives formation to an ideation if...
You... You ever were
Or I... I ever was?

Disposessed words in the world we'd imagined
Obtained and ingrained love in our intestines
Our black will eventually turn to grey
The grey will one day go away
Just as blood dries and becomes sparks
It parks inside eyes to become stars
And the love we lasted long enough to receive
Becomes songs in energy I sing
From my throat
From my hand to your coat, I bathe you
I soak you with my love... a baptismal
     ... like never before and ...
As you drown under, you wonder
If you... You ever were
Or I... I ever was.

there is only melting
melting from one day to the next
melting into each moment, to the point where
i don’t realize i’m doing something until i’m almost done with it and asking myself
“how did i even get here, to the kitchen sink to wash these dishes i was going to wash five hours ago?”
and then i remember
i actually got out of bed and walked downstairs
i am losing my mind
it’s a sickness like a tumor on the side of my soul