healing stitches when i just want to lay in my bed. and be comforted by the delicate touch of insomnia.
conjoined with this cancer.
we are one.
i beg the son to ease this. i bear the scars of this. but i will suffer this. to be closer to you.
this test.
artificial lights shine on me. before i breathe anesthesia.
in my room, the lady in the radiator sings me songs
i ask her, "if you sing to me, will you become human?"
answers escape through your fingertips. as you shut the door behind you.
now we can live.
