Waiting room seats
filled with decaying masks
and health ebbing away.
My stick of battered memories
of running for the on-time bus
that held my Guns 'n' Roses listening memories.
I wait for my name to come up in lights.
The only time that it ever will.
5 minutes seems like an eternity
when waiting for the LED flash of disaster.
Suddenly my name appears and I am
waiting room famous for a mere few seconds.
I dawdle to the four walls that
may uphold or crumble my life.
A dawdle is akin to a run for me
on a good day.
Upon entering, the doctor greets me
with a nod and a nervous look in her eye
I wait for the news-
my diagnosis of atrophy.
Like a Russian roulette
Another to add to the ever-increasing pile
that overwhelm me.
I remember the sound resonating when she said those words
'Myalgic Encephalomyelitis' - M.E.
A wastebin diagnosis, it explained so much
Yet hope, it left me with little.
I staggered away from that disaster room,