Your body is desiccated,
Twisted and emaciated.
A thousand sharp angles,
Adorning opiate eyes.
I know death when I smell it,
It catches the throat,
Lingers- pungent, patient,
Lurking beneath liberal
Soap sprays and disinfectant.
And yet, you cling so tight.
Perched in your hospital bed,
Chirping, in a voice
Both cracked an hoarse,
To friends- long departed.
You are reluctant to leave.
Wretched you fight
- for nights and nights-
Twisting in your seat to face
Death skulking in the corner.
You make me afraid, Rachel.
You make me want to run so fast,
That my feet hit another dimension,
Make me want to break forth
Into a pain free world.
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etcetera.online
