Suffocating in Cures

Consuming herself in doses. One disease to quiet the next in a tireless cycle of killing herself to live. Toothless lion biting antelope necks. Gaining nothing except perspective.

The truth of tomorrow is that it knows us before we do it. A womb from which we explode. Born over and over again until there is nothing left of from where we came. Children of nothing making gods from the voids in ourselves. Creating heavens from the seeds we were not patient enough to grow.

I don't have a garden anymore. No expectations. I never wake up anymore. It's just sleep interrupted. A dazzling spectacle of skin scrambling to cover what I don't want anyone to see.

The cure betrays.

Small doses of disease become too much.