Disease

My dis-ease is like
a tattered autumn leaf
that come snapping off with
dead twigs of ailing branches,
bearing the onset of cold
in the weather

My dis-ease is like
a far-away boat in the
deep sea, shrinking in
size and sight in the
tangerine dusk sky, as if
consummating a funeral

My dis-ease is nothing
but a solicitor of pain
which they keep finding
in my liver, lungs, intestines,
and sometime spine, but
they always forget the heart

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s