Julia of Oceania · Poetry


For years I have worked to uncoil you from my spine –

Your crooked little lies resting dormant in it’s fluids,

like a bad virus that I cannot expel.

You wait there, ready to strike when I am at my weakest –

Lingering long past the point of infection.

I tried to dig you out with my pen;

A million words on paper are not an antidote that any doctor ever ordered.

Nor is repeatedly denying your existence.

How many more decades will I be forced to play host to an unwelcome guest?

How long until you completely cripple me from the inside out?


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