Your homeland stays inside your bloodstream. When you’re away from it for too long your veins begin to burn with longing.
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.
might leave a message.