(2015)
How do you measure pain? All is relative and personal Even with one’s own self It is impossible to compare As memory distorts pain
I had it all In my head And then I said Words I do not know which ones
My pump Constant companion Of my disease My sensor Resembles a feeding
Algunos me gusta compartir Calientitos Justo cuando salgan del horno Que no se enfríe Por eso lo escribí
The teenage rebels All fall in line Be they hippies Goths, rockers or skaters Moving from one mould
Life is good A little luxury A cup of coffee Served with toast Consumed lazily
Beside you I am At peace Our love A connection
Scratchy plaid blanket Red with yellow stripes Hot and itchy underneath Claustrophobia strikes Purple and blue prisms
The more you treat me like a nag The more I become one I’m sorry if I micromanage Your clean clothes Your hot meals
Mis manchas de Bambi Manchas blancas Cubren mi cuerpo La gente se queda mirando Pero no les da asco
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
Antisocial tendencies Amplified by sickness I can people watch Yet I can’t people talk I am lonely
Does the world need Another book? Another poem? I add one more to the pile To be left alone
Who am I? I am me When did I Become me? As I recall
I know it’s for the best But it still hurts Hearing mothers complain For what I would give anything fo… My husband says no