Cancer

We come to you
People of my ailment and likeness
Looking for answers

But with powdery phalanges cupped under the pitcher in your hand
We only receive cancer
Condemningly quiet
Underhandedly hospitable
Viscous
Cancer

The thoughts in our minds
At first one
And then soon some
Run
Running on spotty reels in the empty thousand seat theater of our conscious
But once unwound
Bind and intertwine with icy foundations
And long heartstrings that were teased long ago
Mutating and multiplying in all the vast black
Until one
The fateful one
Mutates and goes down a path that it shouldn't

Prudent and then jaded
Before long it grows until it's strong enough to kill all the others
Mothers
Fathers
Sisters brothers
The cute thoughts
And the acute pains
Mixed and confused and forced out
To make room for emptiness

And for what?

Why is it
Wordless whisperer
That the only fruit you bear
The only gift you give
Bare skin burning from your immeasurable chill
Is more of you?