The Big C

It’s terminal….the Big C has struck Despite these prickly heartdart lyrics, man voraciously yearns for a glint of hope Incurable strikes the ears, accelerates to the brain, explodes into the mouth How Long…………………………Now, you always wanted a pseudonym, an identity Cancer victim, sufferer, prey—slithering around in the soul, you choose dupe When all is said and done, every person is terminal….Thanks for nothing. Sucked into the world of lines, transfusions, infusions, refusions Pleasuring the tiniest chance to trounce it, you drink the nectar of the physicians Chemo that mass, radiate the hell out of it, pill it to death…. Still there—tumoresque tendrils rifling into the interior, spinally nesting, growing Fear slinks into the soul---every day you congregate in the Church of Cancer Singing, praying, finally screaming for respite and release from pain… Oh wait….the prayer to the medicine man has been answered Remission you might call it…freedom, thank God We shall overcome it. Can’t find it anywhere Uh, oh….back in that cathedral again, the preacher’s been waiting You won’t last six weeks…metastazing its way, taking you along for the last ride Let’s morphine it to death. Sleeping, sinking into oblivion The intravenous morphimic cocktail sucks your heart and soul, blasting the brain. Terminal