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Deliciously Wicked Writing

Insanity Knocking

Hypochondria

I close my front door
And shed my mask
Normal no longer
The veil has gone
Heart beats fast… then slow
Will I hear the
Final beat tonight?
Hours stream past
At kitchen table
Eating tikka,
Was chicken cooked?
Was rice too cold?
Did I serve death 
On a dinner plate?
Heart beats jump and fall
My arm goes numb
Sparks shoot through my
Bow stringed nerves,
Could this be MS
Or just a cramp.
Then headache hits me
Like a hammer
Brain disorder 
Or worse disease
My bed of pain calls
Softly to me
I carry myself
To my resting place
Descend into darkness
Screaming for help
Which is sicker?
Body or soul.
I count my heartbeats
And try to sleep.

by P.J. Reed © 2014

 

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