I sit with the sweet pain Of remonstrating muscles Aching tendons It’s been a good day I’ve clocked my vital number Of steps again Day Eight. Eight days. Day Eight Of doing my best The precious little victories Sit like shiny safety pins In my body. Their lancing points Glimmering. Abrading. Wounding Forcing tiny trickles of red-hot plasma To run outside my veins In the sweet agony of pain Reminding me that I’m still alive I’m still surviving, still striving Still clocking all the steps That keep this life ongoing Going on. Ongoing. Going on I breathe in deeply. Tonight I am serene, there will be no dreams To torture or torment me. Tonight In Sleep’s benumbing arms I will lay down my head I breathe out, uncoil, soft-ache-bound As I sink into the swelling seams of my bed.