Thoughts on almost dying…again

I’m currently sleeping with a teddy bear that isn’t mine
with a stuffed camel and a zebra in a blanket nest I construct every night

I wake up in dark and fumble for the oximeter
stumble a finger into it and press a button
these numbers mean the difference between falling asleep or sitting awake just so I can remember to remember to breathe

Mornings are the worst

I eat breakfast with her and I want to ask her am I really here?
can you touch me?
can you make sure I’m really here?
can you convince me that I’m really here?

this morning when I kept scratching at my skin she handed me a wet towel and the coolness of it made me cry and cry

I laugh too
I also sing louder and with abandon because I can no longer hate a voice I almost didn’t have
I struggle with writing tho
that’s a surprise because while I was in the ICU all I wanted to do was write
I obsessively reorganized my website and put finishing touches on work for my projects
called candidates for offerings and uploaded fonts into press kits
even tried to do a panel for a film festival but the woman in the next room was having a hard time

She couldn’t stop screaming.

her screams and the unsteady beeps from the machines attached to me were like a timer
a clock counting down as I madly scrambled to prepare the best and worst of me
so the memories of me would be formed at least partly by myself

Dying as I lived
an obsessive self controller
full of fire even without air in my lungs

My body is absorbing the impact of things my mind and spirit can’t understand yet
My Ancestors are quieter than normal or maybe I am to troubled to hear them

I know they are there because the burbon on their altar goes from honey amber to murky sediments fast
and they keep trying to get her to drink the Uncle Nearest so they can talk off the tip of her tongue since mine is tripped up right now

nothing makes sense
I go from grateful to numb

I and the people who share love with me are exhausted
I’ve never let anyone see this me before and to be honest I’ve never been this me before but it’s easy to be exposed once someone has seen you shit

I laughed while that was happening too by the way
I told the nurse I finally understood the magical metamorphosis people who have given birth go through with modesty and body functions

I’ve accepted that I’m not coming back from this

And yeah
I still believe Death loves me dearly
even though He took some me
from me
to make space for something I’m still feeling the shape of
and someone I’ll spend the rest of this life getting to know

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