Perhaps We Could Chat Another Time

I shouldn't bother trying to speak, as even elemental forms
Of decency are out of reach. My chest was opened
Yesterday, was slashed. My old pacemaker was removed.
A new one took its place. The wound is sore. It outright
Hurts when I lift something or I drive. I can't get comfortable
In bed. I'm not to swim or even bathe for days. I'm apt to
Start to stink, which may prove to be for the best, as pain
Keeps me from being civil. I just shouldn't talk.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 54 times
Written on 2024-08-27 at 21:40

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I join you, Lawrence. I to have been instructed to become unclean for a week! However, little chance of me turning sour as I have so many antibiotic medications to apply multiple times a day. This similarity of medical events makes your poem even more interesting to me today, and as is often the case I am jealous that these words are yours and not mine!!!!! :) Blessings, Allen
2024-08-29


alarian The PoetBay support member heart!
in a way, you could have reached the same conclusions in good health, right?
aren't we but an amount of flesh with little freedom?
and then what pops up into my mind is that you have acquired this double view on yourself, you see yourself from an exterior perspective...isn't that true?
the doctors care about me but I am not conscious when they save my life and that's interesting as thought: staying alive doesn't depend on you anymore!
2024-08-28