deepundergroundpoetry.com
Who is this visitor?
Who is he?
A clever, hiding disease.
What does he do?,
Causes pain, loss of control, confusion.
When will he leave?
He won't go away. An unwanted guest that is here to stay
Where is he?
He's occupying more spaces.
Is he growing?
He's getting stronger, producing more pain, more confusion, more locations, more intensities, more sensations like dizziness, weakness, stabs, jolts, lightning strikes, pins and needles.
What does he look like?
He is invisible, companions can not see him, tests can not find him.
What do others think?
Why are we not getting better, why can't we do more, why can't we be like we were before, and we look fine so whats wrong?
We're forced to help him, hiding behind smiles and politeness.
For he seeks loneliness, isolation.
But we share togetherness, companionship.
We know all these things, and we accept our new life.
A life that is difficult, challenging, painful.
We can see the things he can not.
Beauty, joy, laughter, simple things.
We can discover ways to adopt to his trickery.
An acceptance of his unwanted visit.
He makes the body difficult, producing stinging, burning, stabbing, throbbing pains, unique sensations, at unexpected times, for unknown durations, at new locations and with varying intensities.
He has learned to produce sudden, crippling, paralyzing weakness.
Resulting in many fallen friends, fractures, torn tendons, etc.
But with patience we learn how to limit his opportunities with strategies and equipment: chairs, canes, walkers and wheelchairs.
He controls the body, but we live the life.
It is sad, for he has taken so many before their time.
But we can choose to survive, to live our life, not end his.
Who is he?
Others know him clinically, as Peripheral Neuropathy.
But I know him personally, as Hell.
A clever, hiding disease.
What does he do?,
Causes pain, loss of control, confusion.
When will he leave?
He won't go away. An unwanted guest that is here to stay
Where is he?
He's occupying more spaces.
Is he growing?
He's getting stronger, producing more pain, more confusion, more locations, more intensities, more sensations like dizziness, weakness, stabs, jolts, lightning strikes, pins and needles.
What does he look like?
He is invisible, companions can not see him, tests can not find him.
What do others think?
Why are we not getting better, why can't we do more, why can't we be like we were before, and we look fine so whats wrong?
We're forced to help him, hiding behind smiles and politeness.
For he seeks loneliness, isolation.
But we share togetherness, companionship.
We know all these things, and we accept our new life.
A life that is difficult, challenging, painful.
We can see the things he can not.
Beauty, joy, laughter, simple things.
We can discover ways to adopt to his trickery.
An acceptance of his unwanted visit.
He makes the body difficult, producing stinging, burning, stabbing, throbbing pains, unique sensations, at unexpected times, for unknown durations, at new locations and with varying intensities.
He has learned to produce sudden, crippling, paralyzing weakness.
Resulting in many fallen friends, fractures, torn tendons, etc.
But with patience we learn how to limit his opportunities with strategies and equipment: chairs, canes, walkers and wheelchairs.
He controls the body, but we live the life.
It is sad, for he has taken so many before their time.
But we can choose to survive, to live our life, not end his.
Who is he?
Others know him clinically, as Peripheral Neuropathy.
But I know him personally, as Hell.
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