Consumption

I need a doctor,

a physician to check me out,

and tell me that I will be okay,

because life is an empty waiting room,

with a bed in the center.

As I lay, so close to death,

I ponder of how far I’ve gone with life,

how many trophies, and triumphs,

failures, thoughts, dreams,

loves, likes, and loathes,

Butchered hopes, weathered possibilities

that I had to pursue.

Why am I laying on a bed of forlorn?

Sure I am alone, but that the writer's portrayal of everything.

I chose my position in the beginning!

I have chewed the last steak,

the meaty nourishment of hearty hopes

drunk the last bottle

of drunken spirits.

Crash

The bottle shatters down a broad staircase,

as the whole of me ascends,

gliding, instead of striding.

I have chosen my fate,

Chosen the past defeats.

I’m eating a sirloin steak again.