Chronic Pain

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Sometimes I feel like a motherless soul
I wander from place to place
i sit beside him

he sits in his chair
hey so do i

corrupted by pain
in a stupor

its a shame
we have no
repartee

just rockets
with seats onto
our own universe

Cut off by chronic pain
Art would say
no pain = no gain

and I guess Art
would be right

I remember when
the muse resided in him
creating fulfilling now
he knocks on his door
anxious to get at the
gem residing in the long
hallway with erected crystalline
guards suffocating his outer
rings

I in my chair
He in his
Chronic pain

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