DEAR ILLUSION

A boy has waited and waited and waited and he got his new kidney. This left him with a better body system, but which system put him like this?
So lonely, sad, yellow and sick? And how must he digest all of this in one life time? From pale pink pajamas because his gown revealed him a boy, he was spun back into tshirts his sister chose for him and meals from his step mother. The doctor smiles and prepares his automatic plastic family handshake and states “im pleased with the result, you look great and the kidney is guaranteed to bring you good health.” Reads across the boys brown eyes like a vender machines “thank you” and wipes the sparkle from every bonfire evening and every joy he ever had. Impressive, assured health, failing smile a wealth in youth’s time-struck sewage. His eyes have puffed out from all the sleep and no dreams.

Stepmothers eating treats lay on his stomach a little now. When no one is in the house his heart thumbs on his tin can sounding chest, as he looks for what might be left of his motivation. He doesn’t feel he’s quite real. Really really there. His family speak to him whilst wondering into other rooms, so they don’t have to search in his fixed, sad, sleeping, sleepless eyes for the fresh olive of a boy that once shone and never spoke a word but you would hang on to one. Baths full of sympathy water and walls full of photos of the daughter. He is somewhere and I know him as a boy who is still waiting and waiting and waiting.