"hepatitis" poems
He came,
He left,
She followed
Turquoise paintings of purple hues
Often bring about madness
4th degree burns turn blue
In sunlight
Breaking 4th wall
**** in hand
Third-leg stand
Exhaustion creeping over bones
Arthritis
Hepatitis
C
The vitamin
Makes a graduation
From the bowels of the high
Schooler
Rulers
Exact measurements
My ***** is this big
Preschool measuring
There are 3 cups of juice left over
How many ounces in a cup?
Pig pen
See men
Wafting around in filth
I.
Await for something post period
Pregnant pauses
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
i am the controlled group
i expected interferon and
i got a saline injection
hepatitis c is the
monster
hiding under my skin
i've called for 300,000 favors
from faceless friends - IRC, IRBs, dietitians, physicians
to try to cheat the system
and to cheat the 4 horsemen
harbinging my own internal apocalypse
"If they don't give me anything,"
I began calmly to my wife;
"the scars on my guts will generate another
Chernobyl out of frustration;
out wanting to see my son graduate."
my white blood cell count is 3
and i will wreck this study
go to mexico
and buy as much real medicine
as i need to survive
rudely refusing the FDA's
50% miracle drug
the ingenious intravenous
sugar pill
i only have 3
white blood cells
circumventing valuable scientific knowledge
is not off the table
i will walk away in slow motion
after saving my liver from
hepatitis hellfire horse jockeys in lab coats
with the entirety of clinical research
burning behind me
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Good old Hawk. He was quite a guy. The truth of the matter was that Hawk was a needle freak. He was hooked on morphine. He had hepatitis. There was a whole in Hawk's arm where all the money went. Sad but true. Except for enough money for two beers for the Hawk and me.
Who has to hear it. No one, everyone. Needles can be useful for medicine: they can also be a curse. You pierce the skin and feel the ruch and the juices flow unil you get your fill. But there never is a fill until it's over. Don't kid yourself. It will be over because it's a dead end trip.
You'll crash at the end of your last trip. And the trip you have on earth will be on of misery and despair. Nirvana doesn't come cheap. Hundred dollars a day habit could lead to desperate measures. A life of crime, scamming, pawning, betting, borrowing, and stealing. I'm glad to say Hawk held himself above all this. It could not have been an easy road out to travel.
He overdosed three years before the end.
Hawk actually died and was revived by some kind of good fortune, or was it good fortune? Hawk after this had no memory or regular thought process. Hawk wasn't the same man after that. It was not a pretty sight. He was a hollow man, a mere shadow of his former self.
I grew tired of telling Hawk the same thing over and over again. He lived with us for a few years. He moved out into a group home which he didn't like -- too much macaroni. About six months later Hawk was found on the floor of the group home bedroom. This time he was really dead. I don't know if needles were involved. I never heard the details. I like to think needles were not involved for the last three years of Hawk's life. I know he was clean for all the time he stayed with us. However, a great deal of damage had already occurred when Hawk came to live with us.
Hawk was a night person. He would lie there on the couch watching TV all night long with our dog Ming faithfully by his side. They loved one another those two. They were soul mates. Hawk gave Ming her favorite toy - a little blue ball.
Hawk never gave up. His sister would come with raspberry pie and Hawk would glow for a few days.
Anyway, I gave Hawks eulogy. The song for the eulogy, "The needle and the damage done" by Neil Young.
To soar like a Hawk. To crash into the ground.
I'd like to think his spirit soars like a hawk. Maybe now Hawk has found the peace he never found in this life.
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
Metropolis is dust,
the smoke of unfaded coffin nails,
she's a sensual bonfire
littered landscape,
the burning lust running in my veins
between safety and risk,
circumcising the stage
where Dylan went electric.
~
"I didn’t belong to anybody then or now.”
Swing-shifting to mercenary mode,
but sinking my face value
by ordering takeout religion,
sharing a cab with Hepatitis C,
and all those sky-high boxes
and rectangles
—existing in one, spending nights
with her in another.
~
*"Oh, lay me down to sleep
upon the trickery of time."*
~
Apr 27, 2021
Apr 27, 2021 at 9:36 AM UTC
Us girlies in our
cots, our beds,
rise at the sound of the
morning gunshot.
half past 8, the blinds
bolted shut like
some sort of gilded
prison
put on these socks
now, o
rubbered and friction
you don't want
hepatitis
now.
the bell jangles, no
that must be the phone and
8 foxes of the den
stand in a
line.
phone home will
you, doktor calls with
your paper cup. run like
you're freed and
ceased.
lukewarm water, O
now is she on Lithium?
nine hundred. the
morning gunshot
fires into the
ceiling speakers,
ringing like the
salvation army.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC
(might be disturbing to some viewers)
Tick tock around the clock
the clock strikes six, i dock
i dock on the Seine River
with its shallow waters full of love
and it's reflection from light over the eiffel tower
where at the top of it shines a little red beam shining brightly red
Alarming the whole city...
"alert, alert, alert!!!!!!!"
people became frantic, they started to run
people kisses became interrupted as they lips became forcefully bunch together
which leaves their face full of acne and hepatitis C
people are pulling their dogs close to their arms
people are pulling the strands out of their hair
people clawing their skins with their fingernails
then finally the alarm stops buzzing as it dims to grey
The city is dull and silent
bodies of death are lain all over the cement.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
Beware the addictive properties of our own negative emotions.
Anxiety is a stronger stimulant than a quarter ounce of the highest grade of *******
Anger as intoxicating as a fifth of precisely aged whiskey.
Sorrow as mind numbing as fourty cc's of premium China White.
Denial masks pain like an eighty miligram oxycontin.
Fear can paralyze like propofol.
Ignorance more dangerous than a speed ball served in a ***** needle at a Hepatitis C support group.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 2:47 AM UTC
I wish I had flowers and gifts for you
A whole room full that was well arranged
But if you think that I've forgotten you
That thought is quite insane!
I may not have much money,
and all my credit cards are dead
You're partial to gifts of labor(not paid for with paper)
So I wrote you this instead:
If you could see inside myself,
My heart, My head, My soul
You would see the fear I have of you
of a burning love that's beyond my control.
If you could only hear my thoughts,
Morning,
night
and day
You'd see how much I love you,
no one on Earth could lead me astray!
For earth alone does not bound my love, if there're chicks on planets far beyond
You have no need to worry- I still would not Respond!
Even if they were hot and green, just like that Star Trek show,
And if they tried to correspond, my answer would still be "No"!
"Pack it in you skank-ass hoes," is what I would decree
"None of you even have a chance, Brenda's the only one for me!"
As we walked away, we would laugh and say,
(And I think you will agree)
"They gave Captain Kirk a mess of herps'
and Spock got Hepatitis B!"
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
The handwritten card reads,
'Help Me
suffering from Hepatitis C'
which to me is a cry
from the heart,
but he's just one of many
in the city,
doesn't anybody care?
the card could of course be a lie
and the man sitting there
could be
as healthy as you or as I
wonder why he wrote it?
while
I think inoculation,
half of the population have
never heard of hepatitis
the liver might as
well be something to eat
not a disease for someone to beat
I admire him however grim it may be
to sit and bare your medical history
begging for charity
it's certainly something you
don't see
every day.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 3:28 PM UTC
My brothers and I
have a family saying
about getting drunk
or ******
*It's never too early
and it's never too late.*
Although I have given
up power drinking
(age, hepatitis, liver, etc.),
I still, very occasionally,
enjoy getting drunk in the
middle of the day.
It is so warm, so soft,
so languorous.
And, of course, it is
frowned upon as weakness
by those of virtue.
But I have made a life out
of laughing at those frowns
and I hope I never stop.
~mce
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
Maybe You see life as a test
I see it like a big mess
I remember every word you said
And still I cannot Forget
The way you made me feel
That day when I needed you there
And you ran away
I can't get over it cause I still feel rejected
since that day
I've been trying to make amends,
Trying to find some way to feel Okay
Like I belong somewhere,
Like I'm worthy again..
I don't have hepatitis or aids
but I feel like they
Maybe It's your fault, maybe Its mine
ALL I know is this trace of pain
that you left my way
Hopefully someday I look back and not
feel sad when I think about that day
The day you push me away..
I don't know what I did to deserve this misery
I hope that in the end it all makes sense
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
They picked me like duck duck goose it,The new leader is now music,but they abuse it,boundle of oranges in my mind let me juice it,the hatred let me reduce it,tag with the devil but whose it,he been looking for me for a while, im the needle in the pile,so all I do is smile,pick up my pen I'm feeling hostile, give me one foot of paper I go the whole mile,ima build a new nation with my artistic style,one law be free,my pen burning this paper third degree,my flow sick hepatitis b,success called but no caller id,life a game with no referee,you sitting on the bench I gotta disagree,don't wait till the last quarter to score,in the first you should have went to war,no team mate to be accounted for,I speak up your the Lion without the roar,they waiting for us like a trap door,I may not be who you sent for ,but I got food for thought like a grocery store,
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
there's a syringe filled to the dropper with ******
and a blackened spoon on the kitchen counter.
he was in the bathroom shooting up and left this one for later
but in a daze
forgot to consider
that others would be home early.
i didn't care.
i've stepped on many ***** syringes before
and as a child
poked myself by accident
a few times as well.
i don't have hepatitis luckily
but to me
it was just an annoying prickly receptacle
full of enough intoxicant to be
lethal to any person
without a tolerance.
i just banged on the door.
''hey if i see this ****
again
i'll break your arm''.
i heard faint mumble from within
and left him to get high.
he was going to leave within the next day or two any way.
must be fun,
and millions are having fun,
why bother them?
they know what they're doing
it's just
the lack of respect i don't appreciate.
and the fact that they get to **** themselves in plain view
while
we die
oftentimes in slower subtler ways
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 1:30 AM UTC
37, claiming Heaven
Finding Kevin
Denouncing Gen
Drinking Gin
Pain and Suffering in my body
How can I see find my right lane?
Liver bad but I'm glad
Wish i had more support form my mom and i wish my dad
151 caused me pancreatitis
Rap gave me headaches not hepatitis
Clean but ***** mind
So deformed my each and every time
I lie and say I'm one of a kind
Meanwhile I played Daddy to kids
Wasn't with this girl but i gave her ****
But now i feel like a ** no high heels
Too scared to tell people exactly hkw i feel
I'm done playing house I'm done playing with myself
When I'm scared of finding love to love myself
But at least i found peace beyond the misfortunes
I cashed life in now I'm banking on my fortune
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC