Kara Lynn .NET Blog

Life does not want me.
Death claims to be my only mate.
Death is a possessive and obsessed lover,
stalking me for years.
He has me completely surrounded now,
His spoils long overdue.
Nothing else can reach me
with him encircling,
guarding the cage he keeps me in.

I scream to life all around,
and life responds distortedly.
Life cannot make sense of me.
I should be dead,
and so I am dead
to life.

Life has made it cruelly clear
I am not a valid entity.
Merely, I am a vague and fading ghost
that life chooses not to hear, see, believe.
Nothing works for me in life now.
Clearly, I no longer exist.
Perhaps death will be a good lover after all.

-kara

You can’t get blood
from a man who is empty.

You can’t get blood
from a soul that never dares.

You can’t get blood
from a man who chooses to lounge in weakness.

You can’t get blood
from a man surrounded by himself.

You can’t get blood
from a man afraid of blood.

You can’t get blood
from a man who chooses to live bloodlessly.

-kara

I break a plate or bowl nearly every day now. Cups are not so bad if they have handles. I can usually anchor on by hooking some of my bent fingers through a looped handle. Letting go is a problem though. I can set the cup down, but move my hand away and the cup is flung from the table with it. I try to shake and twist my hand to free the cup. Nothing works. I must use my other hand to pry my hooks from the handle. I guess it’s my death grip. After all, my fingers are experiencing rigor mortis.

I drink water all day from a thin plastic disposable Solo cup (the kind people drink beer out of at keg parties). It’s lightweight, and with two paws I can clutch it. It gives a little so it doesn’t slip as I raise and lower it. I use the same cup all day, and sometimes the next, and the next. I drink water all day.

When young, I was fascinated by the evolution of the horse. Eohippus had five toes. Over time descendents were born with only four, then three, and eventually just one single-toed hoof. Am I evolving like the horse? Did Nature decide my fingers were no longer necessary, and maybe even in my way? As they curl away, leaving me with paws… hooves; I wonder what Nature is adapting me for.

-kara