I know I feel, I feel I know.  

My faults are everywhere; they come from below

My brain, shooting up my trachea and slowly

Crawling out.  My face, they stove.  

 

A million creatures rear their ugly heads;

I just can’t look - but it’s all I can do.  

No longer can I see the invisible blue,

For my walls are covered with what was once unmentioned.  

 

Among the Cancers, I am not benign.  

There is no enclave, just like I wanted.  

I’m being eaten away; my growth is stunted.  

Knowing others, I’ll put up a sign:

 

“Keep away for the sake of your humor,

Evacuate unless you want to die (inside) sooner.”

They all listened.  

 

It was funny, how I never really looked inside myself

Despite the festering of my health.  

The infestation prodded and poked,

So my focus was stove…

And I smiled.  

It tickled me so, but it began to hurt…

So I smiled some more -

Laughed, even, knowing it would never stop.  

I felt I knew.  

Then out came those pests, bluntly showing me the truth.  

It’s not funny anymore.  

 

The folds of humor, as well as the rest of my body?  Gone.  

I’ve been brooding in my cave for way too long.  

My Mother Cancer had insisted that I act,

But she got nowhere, since she had no tact.  

 

Such a tenacious Cancer I am!  

Stubborn and strong-willed…

Yet so weak and aimless,

I grab only air,

And I must let go for I have no need for it.  

I - I no longer breathe,

Neither for myself nor others.  

Perhaps I should have listened to mother…

 

This is so ridiculous.  

I have no organs, but I’m sick of this.  

I know what I feel, so why don’t I feel bliss?  

I know nothing.  

 

 

 

Goes with "Maintenance" and "Buoyancy"