"Storms Like These" - May 7, 2011

I hate storms like these,
When the seconds pass like hours;
When the minutes drip like molasses;
When what felt like a winter’s slumber,
Was nothing more than a quarter rotation on the face of the clock;
When the pain slows every motion to a snail’s pace;
When the trio of analgesics dims the mind,
Bringing the gears of cognition to a grind;
When there’s nothing to do with the whole body discomfort,
But suffer through it.

The dense black clouds that are my sickle cells,
Give birth to the invisible firestorm;
The hurricane inside my frame.
Like a web of electricity, lightning strikes my entire acreage;
Streaking just under skin’s surface looking for escape, but unable to.
It's an unending echo rolling near, far and returning again, and again.
I hate storms like these,
When the seconds pass like hours.