Rotting Away

everything is broken

splintered, fractured

mismanaged by a long shot 

thousands of casualties 

having gone to pot

when doctors know

diddly-squat, 

cancers eating you away

and however much 

I try to ignore it

I can’t help but think

our life’s gone to shit, 

it’s like I’m constantly 

picking up

pieces of it 

and then

I lose grip 

I don’t know how much longer 

I can take it 

I can’t make head nor tale 

of the world around me

I’m sick of conversation

exhausted with the fear

and anticipation of where 

the next lesions will appear

I’m fed up with trying to understand 

why I’m here, 

I’m irrelevance walking

eating, 

sleeping, 

shitting 

and working

until the next diagnosis 

comes knocking

day by day you’re 

rotting away

and I can’t do

anything about it 

other than to stay

by your side

and try to keep

you alive