2015: My Illness Whores

1.
My illness whores – she will nag
& curse me [to my face] & she’ll
shift me into a sheltered home –

Best for all …. & you’ll be round
for your tea … My illness comes
slowly – unless a harder body is

offered at that time [but she will
not be cured – not by hopes of a
cure – she will infect other men]

2.
Sunlight in late February
equates to an embrace –
a slow interlock of limbs

into another – Today it is
a call – global warming –
denied in cars [so fucked

that we will now drive in
irregular winterings] & a
cough is an indication of

what we cannot control –
we are all quite unwell [I
will no more ask to differ]

3.
[Sometimes] it is here – that thing
of old normalcy – my other ways –
how I once was – These days I will

wince like Vincent as I rub my ear
& sing hushed songs [about love] –
All recalls of her gnawing will not

visit for one whole day & I quickly
return to that pre-diagnosed past
[one stolen by this uglier woman]

4.
What doesn’t kill you just
makes you crazier – sings
Old Nick – I was mistaken

for him at a wedding – my
long hair & slug-brows at
work – A oh-to-be-famous

actor took direct swoons –
If only I could write & sing
love songs – instead she’ll

sing to me – Mrs Disease –
her handed-down lullaby
as she rocks me to sleep –

to my dreamt ignorance &
she bites on her fat tongue
as my night’s silence nests

5.
Sundays are not sacred any more –
you only have a scribe’s word that
God needed to rest – let’s embrace

our day off with rowdiness – let her
run naked around untidy rooms – I
will turn away – I will sit at my desk

& make money to pay for it – it isn’t
my place to complain – I was told –
so I’ll return to my sheltered home

[& wait for that shout – Tea’s ready]
whilst self-imposed ignorance sets
in – my winter is not so predictable

6.
My illness has no idea – no
way of knowing – she is not
real – she is nothing – she is

a puzzle yet set – She loves
to look at herself & think if
I lost a pound of flesh off ..

She will not be beautiful in
ten years time – unless she
spends money on her lines

& sagging parts – fills those
pitted thighs with her putty
[& a cure for my auld body]

7.
My drug regime has been split – a
quick axe across pharma packets
of wild-named solutions – longer

lists equate to new combinations
[no one else knows my hours – in
rat runs – no one understands – it

seems] – I don’t miss that rattled
cocktail – now knock them back
It was one of her ways to control

[that eleventh commandment –
though cannot – she added hers]
as she [disease] told me to kneel

8.
She lies to people – easy to
lie to people – she lies with
impunity – it helps to infect

others – her grease – a lube
applied across bare bodies
to help move truths – I will

exercise more – drink less –
eat well – look under beds
for bedtime monsters – be

in every moment [I do not
believe in romantic love or
other infectious diseases] –

I’ll avoid my auld illness in
public places – less said in
coffee shops & public bars

9.
She found me through a need –
for money – long hours – a loss
of sleep – varied contributors –

[who knows what brought her
to my body is a truth] – Why is
honesty so painful – it’ll lock a

hand – a finger – my arms – as I
walk my dog or write or draw –
She is a whore with her sullen

reputation held fast by scowls
& best ignored – my time alone
is sweeter when she weeps – I

feel her inside me – she creeps
in to my room in early hours –
she’s infected another – to bed

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