burnt…

the pain’s fine, but it still hurts sometimes

In the morning,
I only gotta wait
until I’m awake
to find out
if my legs and back
are gonna fight
the rest of me
or not.

Some mornings,
they’re not content
to follow orders.
Instead they pull,
tear,
rip,
and fill themselves with
broken glass
that cuts into
my flesh and
burns away
my patience
for dealing with the rest of the world.

Kinda sucks
to find out later
that close to half your body
thinks so little
of your leadership
that it is willing to mutiny,
even
after such minor movements
with careful controls.

Oftentimes the direct route
will get you nowhere.
Limping,
halting,
shuddering gives way
to balance against walls, or
couches,
or even better,
floors.

I can’t stab that fella stabbing me,
but someday I will kill him
as sure as he’s killing me.
Not much mercy,
no free ride.

Course him and me
are one and the same,
which means there’ll be no killing him,
because killing him would be killing me.
This leaves us in odd places with
ridiculous pain but no way to kill it,
just numbing it down with pills,
with meditation,
it ain’t there
it ain’t there
it ain’t there

oh fuck it’s everywhere.

The tough nights are the ones
invaded by long knives.
They march south from
deep inside the lower third
of my spine,
setting up base camp in my hips,
then applying their sharp edges
as far down as my shin
before they get tired
of getting scratched
with a dull razor blade.

You try not to draw blood,
but after a while,
you realize it don’t matter.
The pain killers don’t kill pain,
there is no time out, no moment
to catch your breath.

When the morning
is greeted with a sharp cry,
that quick glance down,
the one you can read to say
“I know you’re back to jam
your ice picks in me.
Can you at least do it
quietly?”

——————————-

dedicated to the injury that some insurance company said never happened, and even if it did happen, then it didn’t happen at work. i can only hope that those guys someday get a taste. it’ll never happen, but one can hope. crb.

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