Awakened every day, every night
By the impulses of pain
That creep throughout
The joints so countable
So very numerous
The ringing ears, tinnitus
Comes calling faithfully daily
It mirrors life's blood flow
The unquiet existence
A paradox accompanying deft
Trodding lightly on jagged feet
So as not awaken jolts
disoriented and imbalanced
Mitigated by a cane,
To deny gravity her claim
Legs cold and arms numb
Bleeding unseen, injuries too
Sometimes unknown
Unintentional, staining
Fevers of PTSD tossed in
Channels of stimuli shunted
A starved mind, an unruly body
They cannot survive well apart
Few dreams, all bad, in turmoil
No consistency, no tranquility
The sun shines, but not here
Everyday it's drab and grey
Each day a daily task to endure
Yet to strive to excell beyond
To find purpose in a pulse
Even in the garden of distraction
Lies omnipresent aching
The legacy of tortioned knees
The vertigo of rising up
The pangs of bent fingers
The stabbing, twisting knives
They strike deep and often
No release from its sadism
Nor freedom to just be
Welling tears of misery
They roll by unnoticed
Unseen and uncleansing
Quiet, calm and unheard
Except when breathing
Is a laboured reaction
Only the stirring clamours
Afforded in twinging movements
Break the singular silence
That trudging brings forth
In times of pain shared