I'm not afraid of the scars I can see This fear is an anchor, and it's very real to me Yes, I've heard that 'Fear is the mind-k**er' But I left my courage in the wine cellar Nauseating insect, my skin grows crisp and black Self Diagnosis: Arachnochondriac Head wounds and seizure dreams Of a pain-thieving fever-fiend Tunnel vision kaleidoscoping as Anxiety multiplies Met with misguided Eyerolls and exaggerated sighs Trash breathers Shaking wet hands My despair an obvious Inconvenience, in spite of all of their plans (Oh! Unconditional Fear) They'll you that you can use them as a lifeline But they'll make you promise not to pull too hard Ah, what use is a Fairweather Savior? Metamorphosis complete: I have become a burden A pharmaceutical fetishist on eight trembling legs Emergency! The doctor crouched on all fours, reptilian in stench and posture Licking my eyerolls, cherry red bandages, and hardened husk of skin "You look so elegant in your hospital gown, with your splints, casts, and bandages holding you down... but you taste so sour and self absorbed. No. Lick your own wounds." Lick Your Own Wounds But I don't have a tongue behind my mandible, so I can't lick my own wounds I'm not afraid of the scars I can see But the scars behind my eyes are very frightening Medicated numbness drips intravenously Shrugging off the need for this dirty sympathy I've found Frailty is beautiful Intensive care is s**y