Poem 2
Suffer you say,
Washed as dead as dead could be,
There is no life no tomorrow,
Clear sense is now telling me,
I am the aftermath of life
Crushed to one side, rejected.
Here I stand in the presence
Of good health and mind,
Envious, no not me,
Instead I bow down low
And pay homage,
While green bile floats to the surface,
My bile chemical cosh tension eased,
Ashened face pressure bearing warders
Demand medication with no escape,
Physical restraint stand in wait,
Shall we sit you down, and will you take,
Drooling I offer right buttock then left,
Reddened and sore skin thickened
This penetrable wall to be pricked,
Once more and into it shall flow time,
Slowly leaking.
Page(s) 24
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