diseases

blueintheface

hand me some 14 letter foreign disease
packaged in bubble-wrapped bits of sympathy
capable of wrecking even the most situated of hearts; strange statues haven't moved since the last time
I cried in sanity.

I have a dream that some day
we will not judge by race or sex or inheritance
but rather by the extent of our disease.
place all hope in diagnosis
the beauty of youth merely a subcategory for extent of sickness
and sickness only a four letter word we build up from

my american four-starred three-scarred body can't shake this virus
this gory growing little eery speck of bit-off heart
lighter or darker glor.
in shade topped mountain peaks....
when you're above humankind
can't you hear the bond of what sets us in lines alike?

the yellows embers of our fallen hairs
the freckles in our rubber eyes
our tongues lined with the languages we don't believe we know
where is your antidote?
i've found mine - cut my liver open, spill the contents
drink.

walden freeman

You know, I read this a couple of times and the final piece of this is really poignant. Not that the rest isn't. I enjoyed the non-subtle-subtleties within.