Here it Comes Again

A day's work, done and proud
something to show
shower, shave and rest. 
Midnight, You are sleeping
and sudden pangs course through me, 
oh no, not now...but
yes, 
a trip down the ladder, 
flip on the bathroom light, 
pale-moon face shines back through sweat, 
lean over porcelain, 
and let it pass through; maybe, 
maybe it's just this one, maybe,
if I just go back to bed, maybe
it will pass over me quickly.
Go back up, 
check the blood, and too much
too much, so dose, and sleep...
1am, and You are sleeping, 
and I wake again to fluttered motions 
in my chest and stomach and throat, 
a whole hour?
That might be a good sign, hang
in there, kitten; 
back down and up, 
rinse and spit, get the pills and check
that blood again, too high still.
Dose and sleep, until, 
1:30, no, no, 
only thirty minutes?
That's not good, but
down and up again, this time, 
more medicine, to go up and in, but
it's too late, I think, and it is, and 
why, why, can't I just sleep it away?
2:15, 2:37, 3:11, this isn't going to work, so
one last chance, next trip I'll get up and go, but
oh, the ordeal of it all, all over
again, and again and again, 
You called it Chronicity, 
I call it anguish, prolonged torment,
suffering for which I know not.
Finally, sometime around 5,
 I know I cannot wait any longer
and I must go, and 
what must I tell You, other than 
it is time. 
And all around me, the early morning is quiet, 
and I fade away and out of the world, to ride
ride along, and stumble through sliding glass doors, 
and, mercy on me, this time no drunks, or druggies or babies with burns,
just me and my green bucket asking for help;
a temperature, a weigh in, my name and date of birth, 
and I'm wheeled away, into the inner corridors
of the Emergency maze, 
and 
by now, I'm hardly here at all.