Infections, twisted bones, cuts, scratches, blood, scars, vomiting, lurching, sensitive skin, colds, fevers, weight loss, lungs heaving and boiling hot sweat. Every. Single. Day.
He just wants to rip out his stomach, to stomp on the intestines and watch the blood spill out like a waterfall. He wants to remove his organs, leaving a hollow, empty shell of a human. The shell of a human who was once somebody.
Listen, Two states of beings. He's either in extreme pain, or still in pain, just not as much and he's just "okay" enough to make it through the day. And sometimes even that doesn't happen.
I can feel the way they have their eyes on me, always. Calling in sick every other day and not being able to go to school for more than 3 days in a row.
Why him?
"FUCK WHICHEVER GOD, OR WHOEVER THE FUCK YOU ARE, WHOEVER DECIDED TO MAKE ME THE HUMAN WITH THE WORST POSSIBLE STOMACH EVER. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU."
he often finds himself screaming at the universe.
the feeling of laziness and unworthiness resides in his chest almost always. He doesn't deserve to stay home. He's missed so much school. why is his stomach treating him like this? Why can't he just make it through a single day. He coughs, and for a second the relative beside him turns to ask if he's okay. They keep their mouth shut as it fills their lungs with all the condolences they never said, and they swallow it whole with them.
Man.
Creaking bones and blisters on his feet, he can't even excerise anymore. He sits on his couch, looking at his phone. He thinks for hours on end while the pain inside of him pulsates like a heartbeat, like angry fire crackling underneath his skin.
Why him? He chokes on a sob for just a second.
Only a second.
YOU ARE READING
hes sick, again.
Poetrythis is just another vent thing i made and have decided to post bc, yknow, its something. its about how weak my body is, how easily i get sick and how many times i get infections. its become a big problem and im tired.
