Enough

[heslopian]

The nausea and ache, a search for a cure,

a chance with space to rid the impure. Get rid of impure people, or rid them of their impurity?
The horror of cancer was scratching the throat, Brilliant line. Dark and evocative.
the call and the answer destroys the alone. "Destroys the alone" really doesn't work for me. It feels very forced.
A temple, its people, a lesson that sweeps,
but smoke on the balcony smiles and sleeps.
A day and its night, a spark and its fire
with burning and warmth, and dormant desire.
The flash of the moon, no longer immune,
the creature, it threatens, is getting well soon.
A counterfeit smile, a plane for a while,
the sleep and the dreams and the nightmares are vile,
the moments, the minutes, the hours on trial,
unpacking and cleaning and packing, unpacking
and back at the room, the walls in the room,
the white and the wood and the mud and the food,
the ringing in ears, an emptiness waiting,
the restlessness, pacing, a vomitous aching,

an urgency racing, the impulse, the buy,
the water, more water, I tremble, alive.
A fidget, a shake, a twitch and a quake,
the voices of shock and the monster awake.
A hundred, two hundred, a thousand--disgust
at night every night getting hit by a bus.
A beat, asleep, the grinding of teeth,
the wake up, roll over, the night isn’t over,
the burning of paper to ashes--enough,
the shower, the water, the soap and the brush.

About halfway through this poem I started to discern a very legitimate style and approach; at first it feels like rhyme for the sake of rhyme, but then a pattern emerges: short clauses listing things (shower, water, soap, brush) to create a fast, frenzied, unsettling rhythm. This reflects the panic a serious, life-threatening diagnosis causes in a person, as well as the disjointed, nightmarish experience of treatment.
While I think that the poem could do with a few more unique images and sense of place and character, it does something very effective in a compelling way. Thank you for the read