My thoughts are bedridden

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look.
look how i lie still.
i can't feel anything.
this bed is my back.
look. look how that liquid
pours into me through my broken skin,
hoping. hoping is a funny thing,
because there's nothing else to do now.
stillness blankets me
and i transcend to hazy worlds
i don't know what i'm doing.
not even breathing on my own;
disgusting things moving in and out.

i don't fall asleep nowadays
because i am not awake anymore.

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Bed-ridden, sullen and remorseful,
I lay there beneath the stars,
With my eyes closed,
A shooting star,
Cuddling me with hope,
Fading into the perpetual darkness,
Drenched in the tears of nihilism,
I doze off into night of distrust.

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in my slurry voice, i sing you songs
hoping you'll remember me when i am gone.
this dead tree, chopped, broken, beaten, painted: my bed
must be tired of my body. it's been months.
hope is quite a dead thing.
look at me. look
at me. look
at the weight of the breaths
this thing beside my bed
shoves into my body.
don't you see it's more tired than i am?
you're sleepless.
but look how you smile,
wistfully; you know it.
i know it.
but still i am.

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The only "Cure"
For a old, bed ridden, lying on deathbed mother
Was to see her "Son"
Who left her alone to pursue his dreams

Abroad.....

And never returned back

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In Sickness

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"Not Proud Of Me"
Such a selfish me, Complaining of my recent pain and not being able to get out of bed again. Too many in this world are suffering tremendously while I'm saying, oh woe is me. I have hope of remission and then I can continue my missions. I say my pain is unreal, I complain because doctors now refuse me... No medical insurance they scream.
But yet I'm alive, I have God and hope on my side. What about those in every country that suffer a million times worse than me? That makes me selfish as can be.

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From the heart of a bed ridden

The last days of my life,
With all diseases in rife
In the cot tired, helpless,
Wanting for warmth and caress

My health getting dwindled
My own body has swindled
No one to take care of me
No one to hear my plea

All, in their busy world
In a corner I’m being hurled
My shaking hands & wrinkled skin
Deeper sighs, gloomy heart within

Dimmer eyes & words stammering
Many skins I started shedding
Ego, pride and arrogance
Rudeness and dominance

The slipping time, I could feel
Wish some time, I could steal.
But why will people look at the setting sun?
When you have benefits from the rising sun

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It's painful to see someone you love deteriorate piece by piece. A memory by memory. Minute by minute.

It's not that you love them less;no more. You want them to suffer less. Be painless. Because it hurts you just as it hurts them.

You loathe old age. Sickness. Being aware about your situation. Yet helpless. Wanting to scream but voiceless. Wanting to eat but tube fed. No taste. No longing. No hunger satiated.

Being bedridden sucks.

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Divine Fire

Being sick and bedridden
Shakes my faith

Bless me with your divine fire
And burn this hopelessness

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