Prose – Thistle Thoughts

The Jam Files #9: Hijacked

As if the body didn’t have enough foreign invaders to fight off.

I fought for doctors to listen to me.
To believe me.

I’ve tiptoed out of the world.

Lie awake, craving the taste of lakewater and the scent of September rhubarb.

I am a burden with a mouth.

Last night I spoonfed a dying man oatmeal. I sponge bathed him even though he was already clean.

Being sick all the time is some bullshit,
Lemme tell you.

I think I’ve transcended pain flare-ups.
I’ve been husked.

Somebody’s fingerprints
might leave a message.

Your body and mind go through a transitional phase in March.