Self portrait in a Sick Room

The room floods with reds and greens.

It's not Christmas, it's just me.

My mind fills with anxiety, (the red) and illness (the green).

Everything mixes and I am frozen.

I am surrounded by sterile white walls.

Half asleep and half dead, this is my waking nightmare.

I should be used to this.

The doctors coming and going.

I already know what they are going to say.

Everything is so painful, needles poke and prod me.

I want to get better, I really do.

There is something inside me, stopping me.

But it's my life.

I'm stuck here.

Watching the photographs swirl, waiting for me to spiral.

I close my eyes and everything stops.

I'm better.

I open my eyes, and this time it's manageable

So I write.