These passions overtake me,
A vortex of desire - Fire, Water, Air
     - a consumption
For which there is no cure.
The Earth trembles beneath me, shaking and
Unsteady, waiting, just waiting
To swallow this cracked visage, a farce of a smile,
And limbs…so many limbs,
Grotesquely shattered and wasting away.

There is a picture, so surreal,
Yet so real…very much me, parched
And clownish - a vision of the truth,
That which is revealed from within, a reflection
To be damned, saved in ink and rain,
A caricature that captures the essence of my disease,
The trembling hands and lips,
The blood-stained cheeks, damp and dark.

Ah…yes, passions -
Fire, Water, Earth, and Air,
Sinking into the vortex, letting the skin slip away
Along with my desire,
Along with my words, my thoughts, my energy,
     - a consumption
For which there is no cure.

Dena L Moore
October 8, 2006