My Disease

by on May 12, 2012 :: 0 comments

Follow.
It follows me
everywhere I go,
I carry it in my bag of thorns
where I keep my screams,
silent like broken stems
rotted petals, stuffed beside
the vial where I keep my sickness.

Day
by day
everyday
I cook it on a slow boil,
the smell of burning bile,
taste of acid drip,
I pour it in my coffee,
spread it on my toast,
a fine repast
for one who will not let it go,
cannot let it go.

At night
I revel in the ink,
the ebony curtain falls,
I dream in color,
calming color,
anger leaves my mind,
my hands, my mind unclenched
until I wake, retrieve my vial,
breathe in, breathe in
elixir of disease,
my angry sickness,
I pour it in my coffee,
spread it on my toast…

© 2012 Rose Aiello Morales

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