January 11

Another abcedarian poem.

Altogether desolate
Being in this hospital room, as you sleep on a
Colourless bed, your body small and
Diminished
Even as you lie there,  I
Fear you (childishly) although you are so far
Gone that nothing could
Happen now.
I watch your slumbering form and I am
Jumpy, as you did not treat me with
Kid gloves
Last time I saw you.

Might not be so hard to take, but
Now I am an adult, it is supposed to be different.
Of course I should not expect more, and to be
Perfectly honest, I don’t.
Quite the opposite. But I can’t
Reach you or read you and it really is
Shattering to see your mind
Tormented like the sheets that twist  around you, and I am
Uncertain whether or not the
Voices
Will
eXile you forever
You have suffered enough to drive us both
craZy

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