Conspiracy Theory

Everyday a warzone

Within my own

Flesh

Whether hated or appreciated,

My organs just won’t

Mesh.

Woeful this pain that

Keeps me up at

Night

Has become my plight

Has become my

Life.

Denigrated debilitated crisis

Centered in my

Hips

That yearns to be caressed

Yet burns as my

Lips

Pant heavily and I

Twist around at

Night

Unable to separate source

From supply, heavy and

Light.

A conspiracy scours me

My two sides seem to

Split

In laughter, in sorrow, down

The middle they are

Hit

With pain, unspeakable,

Where pleasure once

Came

And now I fear with this bipartisan-

Dual and constant plights that

Ply

In the shadow of my ancestors,

The end awaits, is

Nigh.   

Author's Note

A less recent piece that I recently discovered and thought was worth sharing.