Saturday, June 13, 2015
The Clock By Marion
...is very important when in chronic pain
because, of course,
the clock, the clock, the fucking CLOCK
is Master, Ruler, Tyrant, God.
God tells me, whispers (tic-toc) into my aching
bones, marrow, muscles & tissue
that it's time to swallow
poison to ease the torment for a few (very few)
blissful hours. Tic-toc, unlock those neurons
that bind to the ravenous receptors
in my brain that carry
this vicious/exquisite venom
to my constantly tired,
Tic-toc SCREAMS the clock, the clock
which no amount of sound will block---
an hour's gone (one, NOT two) but it's too soon
(too late) &
the pain refrain is endlessly
ringing, tolling in my ears:
more, more, (no more!), MORE, M-O-R-E...
Never enough, time's too short, too long.
Too much pain, too many/few pills
never enough relief---
thief, stealing my life
killing me slowly & for what?
One hour of relief, seldom two,
four times a day.
Forget sleep or counting sheep
they're bleeding, bleating & hurting
Death will be the
from this throbbing, robbing hell.
Only death can
stop the damned
screeching tyranny of the ticking,
Tic-toc it mocks, it mocks, it mocks