There are millions of us
A poem about chronic pain
there are millions of us who at periodic intervals stare into space furrow our brows tense our eyes as we try to decipher this pain signal we are tuned to on a channel of static and noise this hidden signal grounded in our bones repeats up our spine leaping out the top of our heads transmitting to some intangible plane a ball of incandescent blue light of human shaped axons, connected spinning slowly through the void