Doctor...

Doctor, my shadow

stays behind

like a winter freeze.

I come up with

a way to say goodbye

to it, scratch messages

into my body

little by little, until skin

reddens and I am

the memory

the outline

the silhouette

of a mute mannequin.

Doctor, my hand

shakes considerably

my arms

my eyes-

I have nothing left

that works properly.

Everything

stutters

my jaw clicks

when mouthing

certain syllables,

and my legs

no longer take me

in any direction.

Doctor, give me

pills to reply

to the madness.

Something I can swallow

on a hard day

when the ice in my cup

melts, and my soul

gets stolen

by burning flame.