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Sickness


There's a certain hunger that burns inside me.  And it's not a craving I can just place behind me.  The terms people use for me are, strung out, addict, junkie.  Slave too the habit, weak, a flunky.
          Everyone calling themselves helping me, eventually turned their backs on me, but I can't blame anyone but me… it's that karma thing you see.
          As my mother lay in her bed, sick and dying, I either stole her money or started lying.  She later found out my long denying of everything she'd been implying… was true.  Now, she's beyond the point of dying.  Still without the whole truth and now I'm dying.
          Well, later I married and my monkey was still being carried.  One day my wife caught me getting' "larried," stormed out and shout, "I wish we never got married!"
Fist clenched at my side, before I knew it, I threw it.  Now, oh my God, my wife is bleeding.  I'm on my knees by her side apologizing and pleading.  When she doesn't move it's too God I'm pleading, but oh my God, look how bad she's bleeding.
          Now I stand before a jury pleading.  They sentence me guilty, but my own guilt was worse than anything, affecting my brain and everything.  I was released and yet learned nothing, because, I was out there doing the same damn thing.  With all the past I have behind me, still I let this sickness blind me.
          It came to be a marvel all its own.  Something I found myself dependent on, you see, high, all of my pain and sorrows were gone.  Some things I'd tend to dwell upon, but high, I became creative and self assure, some people may call this "the pipe dream lure," sometimes, myself, I'm not even sure.  I've stolen from children to indulge my cure and done some things no one should endure.  Now, death has cast me its lure.  It's over for me… of that, I'm sure.
          The terms for me now, are phrases and facts of medical science.  Infected with a disease that requires my strictest compliance, you see, despite my best efforts of defiance AIDS strikes with a deadly silence.
          Slowly my world crumbles down on me as I'm victimized by my own stupidity; lead in by idiosyncrasy, and idiocy of a policy that did nothing but demolish me.  However I accept it in its totality.  It's the reality of my morality and of a life I took entirely too lightly.  I wish I could have taken things more seriously, but, it's too much, too little, too late for me.  Death is now my destiny and yet still this sickness beacons me.


©2004 All rights reserved. This poem may not be used or duplicated in part or whole wihtout the express consent of Jak'ki "Parris" Johnson.







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