This is not art, this is not poetry, there’s nothing here to see, the pain is mostly invisible.
sick child
aching limbs heavy
weary
and foreign
pain
sometimes subtle and shifting
sometime sharp and deliberate
a low thrum everywhere
an occasional knife in the gut
in a joint
in my heart
I hurt in places I didn’t know I had nerves
like aching organs… something hurts, deep
but I don’t know which part it is
skin hurts
eyes hurt
throat hurts
legs hurt
chest hurts
guts hurt
stomach hurts
head hurts
everything hurts
nothing hurts
thrum
staccato
thrum
I have no appetite
pain kills the hunger
fatigue causes cravings
for caffeine and sugar
pretend energy
Make it go away
take it away
I would use
I would abuse
pretty pills
if they helped
but they don’t
they don’t touch
my pain
my pain is
non-responsive
to narcotics
to all kinds of classes
of medications
every month
brings new prescriptions
I take things
I feel unwell
I don’t take things
I feel unwell
I can’t tell if anything
works
or doesn’t work
what if I stop taking things
and things get worse
maybe they would have anyways
gotten worse
with
or without
I don’t want anything
I’ll take anything
I’m not hungry
I’m starving
and the pain
never ever really
goes away
sometimes it’s low
a hum
a thrum
a gentle everywhere ache
and the weakness
then notes of it come
here and there
harder
sharper
louder
longer
don’t cry
it makes the inflammation
worse
deepens
eyes are already sore
blogging my pain
little words at a time
living my life right now
tiny breaths at a time
Will I ever get another big breath
of life
or will my lungs always feel bound
in sore weak tissues
for how long
forever?
See how it goes on and on
it doesn’t end
it’s broken
it’s layered
never ends
wearying
sore words
a long list
of symptoms
I haven’t even begun
to touch on it
words can’t express
can’t capture
there’s no poetry
it’s not poetic
It’s not even particularly interesting
it’s only wearying
and ever present
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
pain
p;ain
pain
pain
pain