i am undiagnosable.
my injury is not see-able. but my wound is not closed
as i am only myself, when i am alone.

i have found understanding life is
simple. it is the ability to accept
non-understanding.
simplicity:
thou art a cruel *****

indeed, to understand
is heroic
or crazy. i may call you a liar even

[i am a liar. in many ways]
but to my mind. i destroy
me, where it counts.
i do not
understand myself. and
that is the worst of all.

"You make me forget all the bad things"
I'm really glad.
I wish I could say the same.
You make the bad bearable.
It's incredible.
I can't tell you how incredible.
Just like I can't fully explain this sickness.

It's physical pain that pulls my mind from the bliss of you
To the darker realms
This multiplying cocophony of symptoms
United to produce
A mystery illness
Undiagnosable
- So far.
It's pain, discomfort, sorrow, and a slow ebbing of hope
- But you, arms shielding me from the world
You, eyes warm and deep with concern
You, somehow with the right words,
When I didn't believe there were any,
You, simply listening,
You give me hope.

To be alone now could be unbearable
That spark becomes inconceivable.

You just keep me hanging on
And that's more than I could have ever asked for.

Thank you
Is not adequate
For the time and energy you have wasted
Cuddling my tears dry
Loving me as the worst of it fades
Til life is a bowl of oranges once more
A still life posed
A fraction of experience
A page of exqusite poetry
Til life is colour and meaning
And depth
Til life is more than just pain splattered red across a page.