Finished Before the End of the Sentence

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I can feel it dripping

Down my throat

Like turpentine

Taste it tainting

The water supply

Sometimes it sticks

Festering through my lips

To catch a whiff

At all hours of the day

It sticks to your clothes

Like cigarette smoke

 

Death

In the floor and the ceiling

Asbestos and mold

 

Death

Printed as the watermark

On every page

The wriggling tongue

Behind sealed lips

 

Death

I’ve been carrying death

With me

The most fashionable

Of face piercings

A skin condition

from within

to gradually

Consume all.

Caught Between Death and Empathy

 

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This is actually a journal entry, the beginning is an echo of my fear of the medical complications of type one diabetes, (For more information on the disease:  https://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000305.htm) at a cross section between my anxiety over being kept in the dorm room with some falling friends during 2014.

There’s too much of it. I want to live dammit, let me live. Don’t keep me locked in your grasp. More cage than arms, more entrapping than adoring, let me free. The sun shines, raise the blinds and see it. The world is full of many multitudes of beauty. Just get outside and see it. Take a step outside of paradigm and experience all that makes you Human.

 

If writing  from a first hand experience about diabetes is something that interests you, please comment below, and I’ll look in my goody bag and in the following days I will publish several posts on the subject.