disonnance

Is it too late to wish everybody a happy new year? I've been on a sabbatacle with the inside of my mind. Anyway, on the subject of being diagnosed with primary progressive multiple sclerosis:

i spent some hours today

 in a hospital ward

feigning the bluff of machismo bored

with a drip stuffing stuff

from the ill people's farm

into what soon became a raised purple vein in my arm

there's no entertaining the health poor

once you walk through this door

with no hint of a technology stammer

the nurses are cool

but i'm nobody's fool

it's the being alive is enough

and everything's normal we've seem it before

bedside manner

that

causes alarm

today was no longer tests and theories at best

today was the fist unchecked realise

today is the click that you are reality sick

it may not be fair if i end up in a chair

but what of the prospect

i might lose my eyes

soon i move out of a home but it's a place of being alone

its own kind of drain on a humanity stain

for which i am the lone architect

of my pain

i choose to draw down the shit coloured brown curtain

on a life in eye-tee that doesn't suit me

and can draw a fine line under a life that ought now be mine

yet just pray i can still get erect

despite the disease and the dope

and how now try looking ahead to hope my very hope

i don't infect

with my dread

of how everything now is uncertain

i thought i came here so that i could be near

a girl that i could swear i felt her care and perhaps her coolness I'd crack

a bunch of army friends who in the end

live lives in the front present not back

yet what did i find in the arse's behind of my mind that is a farce crushed mushed soup

a new bunch of folk

who are jewels

i can't make it tonight because of the fright to my tight writer's group

but i know they will parry my crying

they too are truly nobody's fools

and will lift me from this current

charged

state

where i can't relate

to the thought in my gut

where i wish my fate

which not great

was

but

only dieing