The Perpetual Return of IT

IT, you are not my friend or my muse right now. 

IT, you have turned into an insatiable beast, biting at my insides with increasingly sharpened teeth.

IT you have decided to hang around daily instead of the usual 10 days a month.

IT, I am beginning to hate you for all you have taken away from me.

My lover gone. Replaced by a nurse and friend.

Work done while in bed when I can open my eyes long enough to concentrate.

Social life, what social life. Networking, all out of the window. No more Insanity for me. No more exercise WTF? Travel, painful and frightening. I dare not go anywhere alone in case you decide to show your ugly face.

IT, you are jealous of my zest and passion for life, so you are trying to take it all away from me with your greedy grip on MY body and MY life.

That part of my body may be weak, but the rest of me is tough. My mind is stubborn and hard.

There is nothing I can not do. What did you expect me to lie down and die? Did you expect me to never travel, never socialise, never work ever again? I have found other ways, and I will continue to do so while simultaneously fighting your ugly arse all the way.

Oh, so now you have nothing to say. The painkillers have silenced you for a while. I’m staying on top.

IT. Jealous, selfish, evil, sadistic monster. If you think you have won, if you think I will spend the rest of my life in this bed writhing in pain and cursing your repugnant name, you have another thing coming. Bitch, I will cut you out like a cancer and reclaim my life and live it to the full once more.

Mark it on the wall.

Pleasure Pain. Oil on Canvas 2008

Pain. Oil on canvas board. 2002