under my spine, the tiniest voice mumbles that it is

okay

for me to move on.

catharsis at 1800 hours

words ease the ache yet make the sting worse

I learned a long time ago that pain is never as simple as pain

pain is contained within itself, a thousand incarnations of suffering neatly characterized and classified in the pages of my journal

and yet I still find it hard to draw the line between physical and mental anguish unless I am holding the pen

I like the words because they make sense 

when the doctors say "disease", I know I can shut my eyes and flip the letters inside out and upside down until they instead spell

"daisies"