Friday, May 20, 2011

One Thirty A.M.

One thirty in the morning
And here I am, awake
Alone again in the night
Like so many times before.

Off I search for something
To quiet the dull roar
Of neurons' thirst for sugar
To quell this nighttime low.

I sneak off to the kitchen
Careful not to wake
Sleeping cat or husband
This silent team we make

You and I, diabetes,
We mustn't make a sound
Sip slowly from the bottle
There's no one else around

Alone with diabetes
My mind is set afire
For fleeting distant seconds
Low sugar does inspire

A thousand Mona Lisas
Solutions to world peace
A million calculations
All problems seem to cease

I can't explain what happens -
To some it makes no sense -
But when the rush of a low hits me
My brain gives recompense

In form of inspiration
A poem or story line
Or maybe just a blog entry
To share with thee and thine

It's then I truly hate you
Diabetes, night time foe,
For showing me what happens
When words flow out of Low -
When Muse is made of sugar,
And fire is St. Elmo.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Crap.


Not what you want to see 90 minutes after eating. (Don't worry, thanks to Dex I never went below 85.)