i am an appendix.
the harvester of your corruption. the conduit that collects your poison.
you notice me when i cause you pain.
so,
you cut, tear, wench, clinically saw me away. with local anasthesia. and plenty relief.
discard me, like the vestigial organ i am.
and tell me, i have the gall to call myself an organ.
you sit alone.
nursing the diminutive, pathetic wound i’ve left behind.
you heal.
all that’s vile, black, toxic,
gone for good.
you.
a whole human being, with just an appendix missing.
and yet, i remain an appendix.
an addage.
to you.
—
there are no profundities to spout today.
no lights, or shadow play.
but bright, white lights that force wakening.
wide-eyed wakening.
it’s the loud voices. the excruciating pain between shoulder-blades. the ringing phones. the foreign tongue that lashes around. the ever-present something-to-do, like an impending cold scratching, knocking, nagging, ever so slightly, at the back of the throat.
everything here forces wakening.
weakening.
withering.
the auto-pilot has gone wrong.
we’re crash-landing, folks.
nice! i’m so glad you still blog. it’s the greatest tragedy when good writers go into hiding. there are so few of them to begin with!
totally agree with ayesha :)and, did you just have that appendicitis operation???
ayesha, viloo 🙂 thengyoo my lovelies. and no, i didn’t have any aaperashun.