Cancer

You are the very thing that makes me sick  
 
sick to my stomach  
as sick as last night's four locos and vodka on an empty stomach  
 
 
too sick to even look up at those poor emaciated faces that lay breathless  
 
too sick to even read between the lines of the paragraphs of your lives that so greatly define you  
 
too sick to give a shit about those people, that choose...between life and rent  
 
those people that choose, between hope and debt, joy... and regret
 
too sick to even realize how fast you multiply within me  
 
too sick to feel how much damage you caused within thee
 
you're even as sick as the heisenburg on chemo
 
and yet my veins still burn from the poison of your laws, lies, and deception  
 
but not to mention the little issue of race you always had  
 
But
see
you
you lethally inject me with your notorious bullshit and yet you ask why your life is terrible,  
 
Chemo
Now im absent of hair, watching your rates go up, but aint nobody got time to care. and yet you ask why your life is terrible
 
Medication
My nose now runs red with blood red with the blood I have watch you spill each and every day, and you ask why your life is terrible
 
Hesitation
now I look like the face of death itself, as you gaze upon me with heartless eyes that lead to a gateway to an empty room
 
I hesitate to come among you, who make me sick
 
I hesitate to take a step without my expensive free oxygen I gave you,     
 
Your life is terrible because you are my cancer
 
you are the cancer that spreads through me
 
you are the IV that drips regret into my veins
 
you are my morning sickness that greets me each day at the sink
 
You are the cancer that sickens me,

You...are the cancer that I can no longer afford.
 
 
~A memoir of God to man~