deepundergroundpoetry.com
Cancer
I shave my ball
and remember
That evil mass on the screen
No
no prosthesis
I worry about my dick
Am I really dying...
never to fuck again...
Dreaming of your cunt
I move faster
I touch you
and remember
That evil mass on the screen
No
no prosthesis
I worry about my dick
Am I really dying...
never to fuck again...
Dreaming of your cunt
I move faster
I touch you
Published 16th Jul 2014
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16th Jul 2014 7:19am
The Grim Creeper ( my name for the big C) does change our lives, even if it doesn't take our life.
16th Jul 2014 6:16pm
This is deeply profound, Rokin (tartels), luv :-*, so poignant and aching. My throat aches with unshed tears. Your pen is powerful. You convey so much in so few words. Thank you for sharing this.
I am NOT dying.
Some 20 odd years ago I was diagnosed with testicular cancer, a condition more common than believed. I was treated and cured; sometimes that first feeling of utter desolation and disbelief returns hence the poem.
Thank you for your concern.
Play with your/his testicles as with a woman's breast and act early. Too many men die because we're so good at being tough and don't talk about 'those things'
Does it change your life? Maybe? You realise that it is finite and fragile.
Some 20 odd years ago I was diagnosed with testicular cancer, a condition more common than believed. I was treated and cured; sometimes that first feeling of utter desolation and disbelief returns hence the poem.
Thank you for your concern.
Play with your/his testicles as with a woman's breast and act early. Too many men die because we're so good at being tough and don't talk about 'those things'
Does it change your life? Maybe? You realise that it is finite and fragile.
