Cancer Growing – It’s Always Too Late


Torrid tales of that which lies beneath

Flesh-bound darkness with nary a voice

The cancer kills with such efficiency

Silently waging a lengthy pathway 

Whereupon destruction or extinction

Extremes agreed, but the choice only one

For what of the undamaged tissue

Imprisoned under the ganglion tree

Such as life; foregone inconclusively

Should it be surrendered without champion

Left surrounded with an ever-closing aura

The unjust cruelty of these tangled roots

Sinews pulling as of only to tighten

Synapses jumping as if escaping 

But only to be returned by connectivity

Those repetitive mechanical abnormalities 

Feigning hydraulic motion mastery

Yet like the great beasts of wheeled steam

Lie without an avenue to escape

The hardened lines of a fixed pathway

And once lost…no consumed by the void

Become an addition to the darkness

Growing appears in the adjacencies

And without accurate measure or swell

Becomes something without fair check

Accelerating in silent symphonies

Tendrils making launch for untouched sites

A spreading smear of emptiness

Massive but without any self-sustenance

Consuming and collecting and controlling

Until the balance has finally shifted

Symptomatic whisperings of totality

Revelation only when the stage is high

A chance, when chances are but minimal

Consumption nearly completed 

Now the agony of a beginning ending

Eroding and encompassing 

And always with the silent whispering

Death near your shoulder 

Darkness in your ear…

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