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Limbs - Apr 28
Crick, Crack,Pop!,—“Ow!”, ach… won’t my joints of ache
never relent? The tension—every move—
with each attempt to loose—a rigid groove—
my muscles,—all efforts to simply break
the pressure,—ayayaye,so,taut—,to shake
free my body, to feel the strain improve,
I’ve tried to stretch myself so to remove
the overwhelming cramps and pangs, which rake
my shambling corpse.—But ill I find no cure
to remedy such condition as that mine;
Six months’ wait ’til a doctor checks my spine,
—and even then who knows if they’ll be sure
what sickness ails my feeble, failing form?
I’ll blow it off: pain has become my norm.
Copyright ©
X F Lacasse
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