The Big C

Judging by the looks of you,
I am okay.
I will live
with this.

Good or bad never announced their intentions.
Blessings wear disguises and often underneath
is a curse.
Curses only tell us,
there are bad words.
Save your prayers for the good words.

We all have this disease.
How do I know
I am:
middle-class-near-poverty-independently wealthy-
broke, whole-some-a little
pretty-creative-ugly-short-average-sexy-smart-
except/accept the artistic tendency-
to never finish-
And
Not good enough, light enough, fluffy enough
to rise to the top.

It is a degenerative disease
but not lethal,
causing many people to become
bed-ridden whereby,
nobody can see it happening,
the Big C
inevitably crippling
and eliminating any breath
of fresh air.

There was no
Placebo
that would prove
originality was a sin,
or provide support
for the proper functioning
of such complex systems
commonly called
Culture.

That is not the source of the plague.
But living in such close proximities
there is no immunity
from the compulsion to Compare
every person, place or thing
as if we could be grammatically correct
when spelled out,
none knew how to read the
finest print.

It will cost you.

Hey,
You over there,
is the grass greener?
Take a picture, send it to me,
no filter, really?
I guess everyone else is better
off
than We.





Artist Rupert Bunny, c. 1915 in Public Domain.