Word soup 2
my bedpan is a dinner crown
i am full of sick and wanting
wanting to grow old
wanting to recover
wanting to be young again
my throne gives me bed sores
i am the king of little apple juice boxes and pudding cups
hospice whore
taped down with medical tape
tied up to an IV
dying is a kink
my court is a revolving door of doctors and nurses
never friends or lovers
never family
my bedpan is a dinner crown
that i wear atop my head
i never wanted to live more
than the days that i was dead
The image of a bondage situation with an IV and the "kink of dying", or the sick person as a "hospice whore". This sense of being dehumanized and objectified by the medical system.. absolutely visceral.
Evoked so much empathy and unease at the same time, one of your best poems for me! ❤️
Hello I just came here to say Saint ivory was no.1 on my Spotify wrapped. Hope you’re okay though.