"cannulas" poems
IVs and a cannulas that bind you to a bed that isn’t yours,
we are twisted-sick, playing God, if only for a moment.
Your freckled hand barred tighter around mine,
drawing my eyes to the bruises that seemingly
seep through blood-flecked gauze.
Every breath a shiver,
every shiver, a heartbeat closer
and each lungful sharper than the last.
I can feel dwindling stars so impenetrably far away,
sweltering, boundless, shaking-free as they please.
With your waning smile,
that nearly masked your anguish, we are
taking on space now, just us,
we are the atoms that make up our universe, we are
unstable and we are
collapsing and we are,
expanding and growing and we are,
bursting with what
little life
we have left.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
When I avoid your eyes
And hold a gaze with the floor,
You can't see
Where my mother forgot to strap me into the bouncer,
And the jug my forehead ricocheted off.
When I walk quickly
And apologise for the clack of my shoes,
Reminding you that I'm still here,
You can't see
Where my lace wound itself
Around the greasy chain of my cousin's new scooter,
The primary coloured vice grip it had on my ankle
As the brightly painted metal cut.
When I awkwardly cross my legs,
In an effort to seem graceful and uncaring,
You can't see
Where I fell on the cherished artwork,
That was our hopscotch grid,
Just missing the empty tin of shoe polish I threw,
And the chalked piece of gravel
That still remains in my knee.
When I **** in my stomach
In an effort to impress you
You can't see
The lines on my skin
When, exhausted from false hormones,
Gave in and swelled,
Or the four large puncture marks
Matching four large needles,
That look like dots on di
Because I couldn't take the chance
That my meosis would fail me.
When I roll down the sleeves over my palms
To comfort myself in a blisteringly awkward silence,
You can't see
The yellow hazardous plastic bucket
Full of cannulas,
Most failed, missed targets.
If only they were the suspicious trademark of other chemicals,
As then I would have faithful veins and arteries
That wouldn't collapse
As the clear plastic parasite,
Looking to feed me poison
Burrowed itself into the crook of my arm.
When I fold my arms over my torso
Plait myself around my chest
To hold myself together,
You can't see;
The permanent pinprick
On my sternum
The black dot that had to be accurate
To align a red laser
And aim for my heart.
But on the days
I hold my head up high enough
You can see
What looks like dark shadow on my collar bone,
A bright signal flare sent out as a distress call
For a scalpel to answer.
And though I hope
And knead in creams
So marks may lighten,
If this scar fades
I will take another needle,
By choice this time,
And draw it back on.
Jul 14, 2011
Jul 14, 2011 at 8:22 PM UTC
i'm full of scars
cuts and abrasions
cannulas and needles
they're sticking me
pushing my mind
to pharmaceutical limits
losing myself along the way
they have their agenda
and will have their say
but i know there's another way
engage the grey
there's more to this conspiracy
and i am the rover
send me to mars
better yet, venus
just me and a few
we'll send word if we want
you to join us
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC