The minute hand passes by slowly,
The hour rolls on.
The moon came
and still no change.
Saturday 11th August.
One week,
no hope.
alarm blears in my ear.
Another day
another painful kemo.
My hair all gone,
for the second time.
2 weeks, 3 days,
7 hours and 48 minutes.
September 4th
Happy birthday me!
Another day of celebration,
another day of kemo.
and everyone is there
Presents pile beside my bed,
I don’t want them.
18 years, 3 years
surrounded by grey blank walls.
nothing to do,
read every book, 3 times.
September 20th
3 years and,
nothing is going to happen,
nothing is going to change.
All my friends stopped coming,
it’s a lonely life.
Stopped crying, every time
the new treatment didn’t work.
November 1st a new  day.
With the same old stuff,
2 days left though.
48 hours…
2 days
48 hours,
2880 minutes,
Too late.
That wasn’t enough,
nothing was.


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Cory Garcia
almost 7 years

time stretched
spread thin
numbing resolution
screaming silently
desperate to feel anything
but the ticking away
of moments and opportunitie
from a heart and soul
yearning to dance
and howl
as it sets the world on fire
to revel in the ashes
of nothingness and everything
one last time

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