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Chronic - a poem by Stephen K. Cooper (c) 2010 Please comment

scoopsscoop Posts: 20
edited 06/11/2012 - 8:48 AM in Water Cooler
By Stephen K. Cooper © 2010

In the comfort of my dreams, I feel no pain.
No heartache. No hurt coursing through this unpredictable frame of mine.
I’m clear like a stream, questing for the blue ocean’s warmth
But Time, my subtle enemy, rushes me unwillingly towards the moment I awake.
I struggle to smother all the small prickles of fear that the coming transition will bring.

The warm comfort of my dreamscape fades.
I wake into a world of tattered thoughts, unkind nerve endings and the edge of memory.
Still, I hope it might be a good day.
Maybe no rain in the forecast, bringing chronic pain.
No mysterious body movements that spark instant regret.
I fill my lungs with the sweet life of morning and hope.

But then, like a death-row denizen, I exhale.
Slowly I breathe out hate for the pinch of thorns shackling my release.
Hot, dull, deep, unrelenting, and unforgiving pain greets me.
In between each breath, I debate the sacrificial bargain awaiting my acceptance.
Do I swallow each small capsule at every appointed hour?
With just the right combination of rainbow tablets, I will be granted the power to bring this disaster under control.

I summon the strength of will to exchange my cool intellect for a dulled, foggy existence haunted by the grey specter of pain.
For just one more day, I agree to do less, think and be less.
In exchange, the thorns will be blunted just enough for me to remember.
When true night falls, I will dream again.


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