Sickness

Sickness

A Poem by Tim Lion

there is no cure for me,

says Darkness to Ache,

as the freight train rolls by

like a whisper.

 

the fever runs high,

and the shiver runs deep,

and I fall, but with nothing

to fall on.

 

I begged the white mask

like it held a strange god,

please exorcise the stench

before she disrobes her infection.

 

I’m nose-deep in Hell,

don’t tell me I’m well

as you doctor my strychnine

with candy.

 

just dig a quick hole,

my soul needs a rest.

I’m infested with reasons

to cave in.

 

I’ll eat a live grenade,

I’d rather burn up than fade.

tell the kids that their Dad

was no hero.

 

© 2012 Tim Lion


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they ever let you out for that smoke or what?!?

Posted 12 Years Ago



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Added on March 14, 2012
Last Updated on March 14, 2012

Author

Tim Lion
Tim Lion

Lake Worth, FL



About
Sometimes, when the moon presses her naked chest to my window, and my wife is carving the value from trash scraps, I feel like I may never be able to outshine my finite timeline. And the worst part is.. more..

Writing
oh sorry, oh sorry,

A Poem by Tim Lion