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Mystic Ink Plus May 2018
They said
I already ate

I have not chewed
Neither felt any taste

Do I really ate?

Probably I have forgotten
Or
lost the taste.
Genre: Clinical Abstract
Ashley May 2018
Click, click. Click, click.
He was blinded by the light. He smiled knowing it was a camera.
Click, click. Click, click.
His family looked at him in despair. Why aren’t they smiling? Aunt Betty is crying?
Click, click. Click, click.
The light got closer, his vision was non-existent.
Click, click. Click, click.
He reached toward the light to shut it off. Still smiling for the picture.
Maybe his friend was kidding around? That’s why his family was sad, they’re disappointed.
Click, click. Click-. Silence.

He layed in the hospital bed, almost dead. His family looked at him. Knowing it was the last sight of him thriving.
The electrocardiogram lost noise as his daughter screamed
He reached out for the ceiling and closed his eyes.
Oscar C May 2018
Beyond these walls wounded around me, I am free
The walls no longer encase my sickening body
I am able to smell the ever growing flowers,
Accompanied by the vervain bush, and freshly cut grass.
The sweetness lingers undermy nose,
But not long does it come back to the sterile hospital.
It is where I am safe, the hospital,
But I’ll never be if I stay, that is free.
Every hour the nurses come a check my mouth, throat, and nose
Making sure no more disease has entered my body
Maybe mother will let me touch again the grass,
She says I may be allergic to the flowers.
Last time I got very sick being around the flowers,
Something about the pollen, sent me right back to the hospital.
Somedays I sit on the harsh bed, but I rather lie in the grass,
O’ Doctors please just let me be free.
I know there’s something wrong with my body,
Something, I presume, with my nose.
There’s more, but mainly I can’t smell, at least with my nose.
I smell everything, even the flowers,
To smell I use my eyes, hands, ears, words; my body.
I always try furtively to escape the hospital,
But the guards, nurses, and doctors steal my free.
My free is the glowering sun on my body, and my skin on the grass.
I lie in the grass,
The pollen sinks in my nose,
While they countermand my free.
My gentle hands wisping across my mother’s favorite flowers.
As so, she comes out and rushing me back into the hospital,
In her arms, in my sound body.
My doctors examine my body,
Picking off my shirt, the specks of grass.
They let me leave, for good, the hospital.
I can now smell the wonders on the world, with my nose,
My favorite smell is the daisies, my mother’s favorite flowers.
They gave me back my free.
A fixed nose,
The smell of even grass, and sprouting flowers,
I am finally free.
Lisa May 2018
It’s been a while since I tried to write a poem.
It’s been a while since I’ve tried to make sense of the Spirographs that are my thoughts.
Sometimes I try and follow the line as it weaves it ways through the dark circles.
But sometimes
I can’t,
Sometimes I end up in the kitchen taking a whole bottle of pills,
Sometimes I end up in the hospital drinking bottles of charcoal,
You see everyday April 5th replays in my mind.
LS May 2018
my mother told me i was supposed to be born in late june
but i wasn't born until the first week of july
"you jus' didn't wanna come out"
she always tells me
and laughs
it turns out she was right
i never wanted to be
under those fluorescent lights
in the hospital
hearing chatter of doctors
and the beeping of machines
because i probably knew that one day i would be there again
but for the complete opposite reason
that i already was
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