My body, so weak
Weak like an old frail woman
Can’t fill out the paper work
Lines on the page move, like plasma
Across the page
I can’t focus, can barely stay conscious
Time to see the nurse
“Sit here, she’ll be right with you”
Words echo as sounds through water
The room is running in circles
As fast as it can
My sweat-dipped skin looks transparent
Where’s the nurse?
Blackness and whiteness envelop me
I float off the chair
Voices above me, nervous, anxious
My eyes won’t open
Carpet under my dulled fingertips
Am I laying down?
“I can’t find a pulse, her pressure is under 50”
Am I dying?
Where’s my friend, my stuff,
Who are these people?
Blurred images dance into my eyes
They put me into an ambulance
They are smiling, as I will not die
To the trauma unit I go
And I keep passing out
It’s a really bad trip and they keep running tests
Big Bertha nurse gives me a catheter
I pass out again
Down for X-rays - at least it’s quiet
Miasma controls my mind
They find a growth
Where my fertility should be
Never the same now
My mind breaks and the pieces scatter
I sweat and shake
And disappear
Eyes
dipped in pools
of autumn
Shine with beauty
and wisdom
of sorrow
Joy
Branded in lines
of smiles
and laughter
Pain
on downward sides
©Shawn Shearer
For Mickey won an Editor’s Choice Award from ILP
Poisonous spires entangled
Blackness of thorns
Agonizing sting pricks
Screams painfully mute
Clawing and grasping
Spiked stabs burn
Rotting every finger
Bones torn ripped
Sliced and hanging
Hands convulsed
Stronger survival
Compelling anguish creeping
Deep like sleeping
Turning day dreams
Cloyed nightmares sicken
Insidious blanketing souls
New hands crafting
Dismay chiseled anew
Thin shards snapping
Once again breaking
©Shawn Shearer
An ache binding the suspense
Stabbing sighs skim every breath
Tears drip through my heart
Feeling as an eternity
In blinks and frames
Not real, yet the hunger
deafens…
…and rings
In crystal mounds of sadness
And in shooting stars
And I miss you day by day
Waiting for time to arrive
reality to begin…
…love to explore
©Shawn Shearer
A timid chance beckons
A path yet unclear
As we hold our hearts close
Feel our fear
Dipping our toes into
Ishtar’s forbidden pool
Diving into its abyss
where our dreams duel
Coarse scars left behind
Ghostly memories of tears
Venture to small chary steps
After so many years
Felicitous serendipity of fate
Latently karmic and pure
Could this perchance lead us
To a sterling peace, a cure
Fantastic images tingle
As voracious passion devours
Our quivering bodies know
As our minds gently flower
Another chance embraces
A path yet unclear
As we hold our hearts forward
Face our Fear
©Shawn Shearer
Possibilities won an 2008 Editor’s Choice Award from ILP
What unknown dream
Seizes the soul
Night breathing peace
In chests of pain
Comes into mind
Demons will find
Ripping unconscious
Security behind
Being on edge
Light peers on the path
Where pain disperses
Freshness of body
The waking hour
Is not kind