This morning I thought
This morning I felt
The disease has won
Then I felt
I need to make my self
my body, my mind comfortable
I did not think it; I felt it
And later I figured out
Behind what I felt
That is
I cannot keep up this pace
I can't keep going on like this
Is this acceptance?
I thought I had already
accepted
Acceptance must come
in layers
Like grief, like onions
I'm not giving up
But I am going to make myself
as comfortable as possible
Even if that means more steroids
But I'm not going back
all the way
Because I will end up back here
I think I know what it feels like
To be an addict, of sorts
