X Marks on the Calendar

“So I’ll toast every beat of my heart like a miracle.”


Writing scars down your stomach

The acidity ate its way to your lungs

And your decaying and putrid heart

Until you throw it back up, it stung


You just have a few weeks to live

Several days to breathe before you die

Which is the most god could give

Calendar holidays in red to bleed a sky


Another x mark in your checklist

Another x in your pallid internal system

X’s scribbled on your friends’ eyes

Avoiding your gaze to avoid goodbyes


Stuck in synthetic hospital wards

Until the taste is stuck in your tongue

The chlorine and antiseptic pills

Hopscotch games over the IV line one


World’s destiny was revolved for your leave

And you swallowed the death cure a bit late

So now you have just a few weeks left to live

But somehow that seems far too long a wait.


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