illustrated ink

I finally understand why people need to pray.
Control is leaking through my fingertips,
For simple heart breaking biology,
This internal danger, omnipotence,
it’s her heart, it stopped and started,
The tubes, the worried whispering,
From white coats with white faces,
It’s red, it’s green, it’s hypocrisy,
The fragility of her, tiny frame,
Once blonde hair, red nails, warm,
Now grey, outgrown, cold.
It’s her lungs and I can’t breathe either,
Acidic dread, it’s her blood infected,
How can it be? I am sarcastic to suffering,
Who is king of atheism? Who can help me help her?
It is her stomach, it is vanity, it is irony.
I pray I’ll never doubt you again,
I pray she wakes up,
I pray.
—  14.11.16