Posted in Poetry

Chemo Ward is depressing

Chemo ward is depressing

False professional smiles

Caring with social distancing turned up to 11.

-Since collectively we are so toxic they have to gown, mask and glove up to be near us.

(We then go home and try not to touch anyone there either. That’s not depressing either)

And all the sad falsely brave faces of all those green chairs filled with fellow travelers.

Desperately clinging to life.

Desperately trying not to die

Yet desperately seeking a reason to really live.

Hard to live when your body is trying not to die

While being fed poison.

Counter intuitive FTW.

Did you know that most laugh tracks on TV were recorded years ago?

Most of those voices are from people long dead.

And we who flit between the living and the dead,

Late at night when we cannot sleep

The blue light of Netflix highlights our recliner chairs,

And the little nest we make in the corner of the room for ourselves.

Pitter pattering up the Hall to take a piss,

(Remember to keep the lid down and wipe down the seat so you don’t poison someone’s butt)

Until even the true crime and serial killers fail to hold your interest And you fall into a restless half sleep waiting for the light and permission to get up and make the coffee