Feel the sheets -
tell me about the room?
what was he wearing?
how did he touch you?

To bleed
bright red,
that tangy salty taste -
what was that like?

You giggle more a reflex,
then stop,
and almost choke,
bang your fist,
sputter something
half meant
to be a joke
that hides the pain

Maybe tomorrow we'll try a little more again,
the nice young lady doctor serenely said

You vaguely sense
things shrinking,
losing shape,
by invisible bit--

Yes, now and then
a speck of doubt,
or twitch of anger
or tiny tremor
sometimes comes--
but not for long,
quickly smothered
in a shapeless bog
of bland resolve

Standing by the window
you breathe in,
breathe out--
the air stale,
queerly thin;
not much left
to do,


and wait,

and wait

While time mindlessly gnaws away at this aging crust,
thinning the gap between breath and brittle bone,
you vacantly stare through the diaphanous curtain
to the unknowing world a window away

I bid you Peace.


The time is always NOW. Breath In. Breath Out. Move On.