Through The Chalk Dust Of Vitality Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Is there nothing left to say?
Drained thoughts
compromised by
draining body.
Chemotherapy and medication
fogging ambitious intentions.
What I want to write
will not translate into words.
Surrendering myself
to the plastic tube that
sends poison through my blood.
My poorly focused cognition
dulled by the fervour
of little white narcotics.
Is there nothing left to share?
I feel it is so. Shivering
with the refrigeration
of misplaced vocals
that stutter even
before being spoken.
Are there other strengths
that will sink in before
the final death rattle?
Odds and ends of optimism
that will magically
transform departing
consciousness into
wonderfully written laments.
Never mind.
I will not think of
what I would like to say.
Haziness is here.
Uninterrupted decline
streams with supremacy
through the
chalk dust
of vitality.