my eyes found a fix, a different one, a new one. anxiety or oxygen are dry blood, still liquidated in my hands.
i got a wheelchair and a human being to push me through the aisles.
i got intravenous injections and cortisone running through my blood.
i found new people to joke upon.
i have a list of people that i'm afraid to call nowadays.
every new day founds me asleep on my carpet, lonely, lonesome, a day closer to death.
post-hospital wounds added and a fear that other people might be more of a human than i will ever be.
yet i never heard something as beautiful as