It’s been a few years now since my space was invaded

Some E.T. having triggered a rouge cell in my head

I did not volunteer to become its host, my brain toast

All I know is that it’s an evil little bugger, slowly spreading

Its roots are like red weed choking my communications

Picks parts of my body to destroy receptors, implant its own

Whole areas of inner landscape turn black, baron, and a wasteland

Occasionally spots of resistance sprout up, fight the invader

New nerve trenches get dug and nerve fibre optic pipes lay down

They try to isolate the red choking weed, get through to brain

Sometimes these pipes lasted for weeks others only a few hours

Still the Pill Master, even though it’s a loosing battle, fights on

As with all unwanted aliens that invade me, eating at my core

I fight on despite knowing the inevitable, resulting outcome

As muscles weaken, loosing the will to function, still I fight

Mental agility goes from premier to conference league

I will fight to kill the ‘red weed’ in any way I can

The inevitable will out, and I will die, but I am not going quietly

I will delay in the hope of a treatment, which kills my ‘Alien’ inside

 

 

© Phil Golding Dec 2007