Aching bones all day
albeit too young for arthritis.
The ink is all dried
up even though this contraption
is new. I should return shortly.
Precise. Much better, but not perfect,
fresh ink, yet the guidance is still the same.
These hands look far older.
Each morning I wake up
as bewildered as the one before.
I feel the same way
about myself. All is static.
That is, until the day that change has stealthily crept,
and all of a sudden she is standing
in front of you, staring you in the face.
These imaginary shades are constricting my view
as if I was wearing a burqa.
not all around,
it pervades my being,
dominates my thoughts constantly.
Every moment I am in shock.
Surprised at my ability to breathe.
When I was very young,
I faintly remember an unbridled panic
at realizing the automatic act.
I would have to deliberately continue breathing,
until I would forget again, or If I was especially self aware,
I would eventually start to gasp for air.
the perpetual dichotomies of life:
angst and acceptance.
Not one person has a total lack of fear for falling by the wayside.
Although expectancy ingrains a kind of desire for death.
My heart was pounding
physical phenomenon in place of a forced out emotion.
My teeth are falling out,
perhaps from unconscious nighttime grinding.
It is late now. A different kind of perception.
I’m glad I can indulge in certain things. Things that have too often been taken for granted.
This type of ache feels like internally loosened blood dripping down.
And now I will try for the temporary blackness, if only it will come easy.