Division

Skin will wilt
Legs will swell
Bones will break
Lungs will fail

Your words won't make me feel better
A leucotome to soothe the sick
A platitude for the bereaved
Your words won't make me feel better
The steady pulse of IV drip
The gnawing hunger for relief

Medicine contours your mind like a chisel that strikes marble

My words won't help you get better
A pint of blood for labored breath
A pious hand for ravaged flesh
Our words have lost their meaning
Yet we can't stop moving our mouths

Bitterness shatters my mind like a hammer to porcelain
While we wait
Bitterness shatters my mind while we wait

The present sinks into the past and the visiting hour ends