the way i interact with people gives them bite-sized pieces –
a wince, a sigh, a rant about the last appointment.
i catch myself in surprise when i say i was at the doctor
and they ask if i’m okay, two question marks in their voice,
and i can’t help but laugh before i say yes.
i guess most people go to the doctor for physicals and check-ups,
maybe for strep throat or a sprain,
and not for half an answer,
weeks of waitlists,
waiting.
maybe they’ll even see me tired,
puffy-eyed and curled up on the couch like i came with it,
feeling like a drag when i shake my head and say i’ll stay while they go.
in little moments, if they’re looking, they’ll see me labor up the stairs,
an amused echo of ‘but you’re so young!’ flashing through my mind
as each step sends a sharp pain through my knees.
“you go first,” i insist, hanging back with a smile
before climbing in their wake.

I poison my own wells
And wonder why
The neighbors are still sick,
Even after I've given them
Some water.

I know two older men that I used to care about, that go to the ER about 100 times each per year. Costing 100's of thousands of dollars to medicaid and medicare. As far as I know they never really paid taxes, which really doesn't matter to me. They go to the ER, only to be sent home, as their insurance is billed. One of the men, went to a local doctor 4 times in past two months...the 4th time they said they found a spot on his lungs, and he needed to come back and have it checked. He went yesterday to have it checked, and I am sure they will find it has gotten worse. Anyhow, he was at the ER twice today with breathing problems and high blood pressure. I had told him two years ago that if he keeps going to the doctor, they will find something. What we choose to think about always becomes more intense. If it is disease we think of, we get disease. He is all to pieces and I can't say I care, since this man watched me stop taking heart meds that they claimed kept me alive, and that was two years ago. He uses the local Catholic charity constantly to get free food, and then ends up at a Catholic hospital, sick. We manufacture sickness and wellness within ourselves. No faith needed...just belief. Our biology is what we believe it is. We are the only animal who can supposedly die of millions of different diseases. Think.

Victims of Consciousness (please don't be offended...or be offended)

You are a victim of consciousness. A deer has a baby and the baby gets up and walks. A human has a baby and it can't walk for almost a year. That smack on the ***, along with the mother's consciousness does that. You can put a newborn in water and it will swim away. It will come up for air and all. If you believed it would be okay, and walked away, that baby would be okay. That is, if you didn't worry about it dying.

Are we less or more than a deer? Or are we equal?

A hawk could get that baby that is swimming away...that is, if you believe it can happen.

We are programmed in the womb, and in the first 7 years of life. The subconscious "hard drive" is where most spend their minds. Check out my page for some videos of me bending your beliefs. I can't break your belief, because I'd have to change your perception. You are too smart for that, or too stupid.

FOOLS.

Bring me monkey pox and I will eat it.

COVID? Gulp!

Believe in health and not sickness.

FOOLS!

Die or live. Your simple choice.
God wants you to believe in you.

FOOLS!

I am off all heart meds for two years now. I feel better than ever, and I even let snakes bite me

FOOL!
It hurts a little.

We can be perfect. Maybe not by the imperfect standards of others. But they say nobody's perfect. They don't believe in perfection. They never watched a bird in flight, headed south. Perfect. A baby crying for food, perfect. Our consciousness can be perfect, if even for a minute. That means we can too. There are games that are impossible to be perfect at. Then there are parlor games such as pool, darts and bowling. You can be perfect at those sometimes, if you practice. The same goes with life. If we think we can't be perfect, then it is impossible. If we aspire to think perfect thoughts, then those thoughts aspire forever. Forever. I fail all the time, but it is my own fault, because I try things that are said to be impossible. Why not?

A tapestry of a life lived
Depicting memories and victories;
A tapestry that is gold,
A tapestry that is frayed.

Hangs on the wall this tapestry
And before it sits a Paragon,
Musing, reminiscing and wilting,
Her little world ever shrinking.

Does a Paragon lose her quality
If she can no longer act?
Would her love and patience be forgotten
Or would her past glories suffice?

Illness demands a levy,
Exacts a crushing toll.
Its every touch a withering stroke,
Its very cure leaving another wound.

The curve of a changed smile
Is like a scythe to the heart.
The mutated sound of a voice
Cuts you with its familiarity.

I sit beside the Paragon, unworthy.
Unable to heal, unable to help.
Ill equipped to fulfill her smallest dreams
I sit beside her and weep.

I see now through the veil of the past
Where lives a life I loved.
Over my shoulders I drape a tapestry,
Frayed by the dead hopes of the future.