My New Earth work is actually on It's a text messaging book club. In case you came here from the Oprah website and were wondering where it all is. I'll bring my New Earth Work over here because, I guess this is where it's meant to be. Welcome to Jippyjabber! PS I am auntjippy on the Oprah message boards.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

He won't come out of his room. He won't leave, Just stay home. I feel like a life gaurd. I am here watching him exist. How can he love life so much? How can he have such a will to live when his life is pain. Any normal bodily function sends pain signals to his brain. Is it real pain? It is excruciating, he bites his arm and squeals, tortured so fu*kkin tortured. I run to get him a cold cloth to chop on. I run for pain medication, breakthrough medication. I pry open his jaws drop in the pills just as he clamps his jaws down again. Damn it hurts when I move to slow. I pour water through his teeth and I know by now the odds of him choking or being able to swallow. I want to shut my ears off. I know he's going to get relief but I hear pain until my brain starts to reel. Just a tightening of every nerve in my body from head to toe. And I am small, I am only the pain center in my brain. I am blind and I feel a tapping, a you hoo..... a bid for my attention trying to remind me it's not really happening to me. I try not to hear this. I try not to accept love and comfort for my own sympathetic suffering. Because I know, I know if I turned to face this divine force that I could shred it apart, the bite of my anger and rage. How can such a gigantic rage be so hidden. It's not hidden it's riding on my hips, it's my fat ass, my effort to breathe, my silence, my big fucking silence, right in front of everyone. Stop his pain! I can't watch him tear himself apart, I can't hear that sound. The sound of raw nerves over charged twisting and shriveling dieing, misfiring. If I were to talk to god I might be doing the devils work.

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