hospital room day 5 – Nylcajj Hairam

It’s not the words I write,
But rather the ones that-
Slip past my teeth,
Sneak between my fingers-
I let go of without much fight.
They’re the ones I don’t
Even bother putting traps
Down for, so loud are their
Stomping in the background
Of my mind.
I’m a coward, see, because
For me, writing is the easy
Way out. It’s a pretty distraction
Of a twirling light display
That’ll catch the eye and
Inspire all of the right emotion
To make you think and to
Make you feel, but where
Do you think the light comes
From? I’m a charcoal husk
Of burning embers you just
Happen to be upwind of by design.
But apparently I’ve only got
So much square footage in my
Forests to run, and all I can think
About right now is…
I’ve always wanted to see the
Northern lights dance across the sky,
And feel Something in the cold other
Than sheer focus. I want that wonder.
I know I’ll never get to behold a
Nebula, and submerge myself in a
Poetic loss at the birthplace of creation,
But still, I always think that those
Lovely, dazzling, Aurora would get me
Close to God somehow. And now…
All I can think about is how I’ve never
Seen them and I am exceedingly
Aware of the clock and how they say
When you’re given news that potentially
Puts a limit on your life, the idea of
Dying makes life so much more liveable…
It feels an awful lot like purgatory, a stasis
Between the last breath you took
Before words disrupted airwaves
And reality and displaced you into
Whatever in-between life becomes
When time becomes the master.