in bed, i was
sick
sick
sick
sick
helath
sick
I thought I was immersed in health-that’s wrong-i was immersed in
sick
sick
sick
sick
sick
and I CRIED OUT! I WAS IMMERSED IN
five different blankets of sick, each the different stages of
obsessive illness:
attention,
classification,
concentration,
delirium,
insanity.
“you know what?”i smile,
“it’s not so bad.”
im licking my lips
and i notice the obvious
pounding chest, a bit accelerating
that lasts for minutes and comes back several times for several hours
and i think about the way i always end up seeing the world
through your eyes, pretending you’re observing me
like a comforting spy.
and anyhow-
sick, getting better, it’s all the same
it’s vital and i need it.
it’s like a pulse:
it’s running high
they say
get her to a doctor they say
there is no doctor for this disease they say,
you go to psychiatrists for that.
no for that they go out into the world
and they see that no one is really like the
people they make up in their minds
and then they get sick again
trying to forget the fact.
Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry