Immune to the Medicine   62   Lines


There was once a time where this medicine healed me,
A time where I was made whole and could go on,
A time where The wound would flee like a swan,
But those days are gone and exist no more,
The pain, fresh, ever present and hurting like a sore,
Toothache which never ceases,
But leave incessant creases,
And creases of pain that cannot be cured,
Only a slow small dose of treament one knows as patience or the "endured",
And this pain is in the chest, yes the chest, but deep,
Deeper than the flesh, deeper than the bone, deeper still where it does not sleep,
But causes me in my mind to weep,
And deeper, deeper even in the heart below the 4 chambers inside the powerful cardiovascular force where the source of mans strength lies,
The life force of life forces, the electrons with eternal ties,
Yes the soul, the king of life, that is where my pain rests,
And try as I might, I cannot pass any tests,

"What tests say you?" , me, the one who speaks,
The tests to capture the heart of a woman says a voice deep within the cracks and creeks,
No longer can the pen, faithful friend, administer the vital elixir that kept me going when I felt I could not bear the burden any longer,
He administers even as I write but his power, or the power of the elixir is no more,
He too wonders, marvels, emplores,

This pain, that rages deep within is the lack of the other half we call female to accompany me in this thing we call life,
So far, its been me that has rode the ship solo for better or worse through good times and strife,
And for a time that seemed right, for a time it seemed what was good for me,
The doctor, then those who were older than me told me so and so I believed what in my heart I knew was not right,
They through one course or another, did not help me see the light,
Then I found what I thought was a cure but knew was only a temporary band aid,
The roach spray that thought it was my "RAID",

I thought this art right here, right now, poetry would keep me sane, sound,
And for years she did just that,
I thought I would be free of the thing I want most at the drop of a hat,
But she, the gift to write her was only a drug,
And thanks to her hypnosis it left me quite smug,
Till the issue which never left in the first place reared its ugly head,
And said im here to stay until im treated properly alive or dead,

And so I sit here now wondering how can I cure that which I feel hopeless to change,
For in truth it requires major surgery for what is normal to many to me seems so strange,
It hasnt clicked yet, I still dont get it, NO! Not at age 31,
I havent figured out how to grab her quick, find someone,
And each day grows worse than the other before it what more can I do,
Sick I remained without a figure or a clue,
To make it click, make it work for me,
So that just like the rest of the world i can assimilate and find a piece of "Happy",

As for the medicine, I will use her to administer to others, perhaps she can heal them as she once soothed me,
We will see if that translates to them havin my fate or finding their own someone to create the perception of happy.