Chemical Warfare

Pinks, Blues, Whites and Greens.

18 in the morning,

every morning.

Along with two injections to maintain my weight

It’s become a ritual, like an junkie with his fix.

Sometimes I vomit and have to do it over.

And this just keeps the beast on a leash.

14 years of ritualistic pill popping, I’ve learned to swallow them all, in one giant gulp, but I still gag,

every morning.

The feeling of isolation was enveloping,

there were pills for that, too

I felt fragile like a beach house in a hurricane at high tide.

A razor wire topped wall of my fear separates me from you,

fear of your judgement, of your words, of your ignorance.

I’m afraid to get too close ‘cause then I might have to explain.

so I come off cold and distant,

I’m afraid to make eye contact because you might see my pain,.

but I do it in an instant.

That may be as close as we get.

Living with HIV is harder than dying,

and I considered suicide daily

 After it put me in this wheelchair, turning me from an athlete into a cripple.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to me.

I was gonna be someone, do big things

But on November 8, 1998, an emergency room doctor diagnosed me.

My dreams were ripped away like a stolen emotion, before my eyes could shed a tear.

Afterward,  I felt liberated. From any expectation put upon me by family or society.

I wouldn’t live a scripted, played out existence of marriage, then children, always looking back at the good ‘ole days.

No, instead I would be alone and probably forever.

I was a drug addict so dying young didn’t phase me.

I did feel alone though, like I was dipped in wax, denied the ability to feel another persons touch ever again.

I wanted someone to hold but solitude possessed me and I was it’s star pupil going for his Masters Degree.

The drugs quit working and I felt trapped like a prisoner of war.

The euphoria didn’t rip my reality away anymore, no matter what or how much I did, I still felt contempt for myself.

I was forced to feel the fear, the anger and the depression that the drugs put on the shelf.

I worked the graveyard shift alone and slept all day.

I no longer wanted to socialize.

I felt transparent and didn’t want you to see what was going on inside.

I was silently weeping and sinking deeper into a torrent of depression.

One night I sat up with a fifth of cheap Tequila and a bottle of sleeping pills, in my apartment. Debating whether or not I really wanted to continue on. I didn’t, but couldn’t work up the nerve to finalize my decision.

I took a mouthful of pills but then spit them out.

I opened the bottle of Tequila, wiped away the tears and started doing shots with the sun as it began to rise.

It was a glowing red orb poking it’s head up from the dark horizon like a child playing hide-n-seek.

It continued to rise until everything was bathed in photons of light, casting long, cool shadows.

I could see the ocean and it’s glistening white caps from my window, so I went down to the beach.

I wrote my troubles in the sand and watched the tide drag them into the sea.

The ocean air cleared my head like a leaf blower and altered my perspective but nothing could change the fact that I had this virus and it wasn’t going anywhere.

And it’s alive and well out here too, even though it’s only spoken of in hushed tones.

It’s considered a manageable disease now but it takes a lot of energy, dedication and a strong stomach.

It’s not a gay disease; It’s not a straight disease,

It’s an equal opportunity killer.

Why is it a tragedy when someone gets cancer but a travesty when they’re diagnosed with AIDS?

Men and Women are suffering and dying in silence because they’re afraid of being ostracized by their family and friends.

And you are in NO danger of getting infected unless we have sex.

Not by hand holding, not by the toilet seat and not even by saliva.

But I am in danger of catching whatever you have and have it develop into something deadly. So erase the stigma.

And it only takes one error in judgement, the person you met at the club that looked healthy, a desperate moment when you’re going through withdrawals and share a needle,

And then you’re done.

Relegated to a life dependent on bottle after bottle of anti-viral medication, meds for the side effects and meds for your depression.

Staying healthy is a full time job when you are HIV positive.

So,

Be afraid, be smart,

where a fucking condom and get tested.