First Aids.

Don't ask, don't tell. Today was World AIDS Day. This is loosely based on a local story.

The dew in the pine trees
carry electrical currents so familiar to
me. They shine like fallen stars

guiding the alcoholics homeward bound.
It's so quiet, I can hear my body
churning and gurgling as the drool
from my mouth crashes into the
dank puddle- that seems to be
absorbed into my thinly covered shoes
softening the skin within.

I have no control over my actions now.

My blood seems to run a marathon
just to charge around my body-
like a Caesar to my physical Rome-
once. It runs over a murderous
red but soon turns pus yellow.

I'm thick with disease. I cannot feel
my hands gripping onto the steel posts.

I'm climbing towards freedom-
I'm out of breath, I've climbed Everest
maybe a thousand times. I'm exhausted.

My muscles turn into molasses, I feel
like I'm drowning in my own
molten flesh. I didn't always used to be like this.

The fine pinprick scars tell the war.

He didn't tell me when we shared our needles
he was sharing the misery.

Now, I stand tall over this tarmaced riverbed
with the cars chasing each other like rainbow
coloured fish. I'm going to efface myself
so I cannot pass on this living death
to anyone else.

The wind rushes by my face and pulls
the red droplets to sour and twist
into a morbid rain.

This is the only vaccine I know.

Overall I like it, but I think it sounds a bit too choppy in some places.

I think the choppiness kind of added to the idea of disease. It's so haunting because it's all true, which is what makes it awesome poetry.

I think you become even better by each poem. And I don’t know how the hell that’s possible

I think you did a terrific job in turning your chosen subject into pure poetry. I myself really like the structure and cannot find any choppiness.
I also adore the imagery, choice of words and phrasing!

Parts like this are truly awesome!
My blood seems to run a marathon
just to charge around my body-
like a Caesar to my physical Rome-
once.

The only thing I can give some criticism on is the second stanza. I think the first row should belong to the first stanza because
it’s not really connected to the stanza it’s put in (if you know what I mean).

My blood seems to run a marathon
just to charge around my body-
like a Caesar to my physical Rome-
once. It runs over a murderous
red but soon turns pus yellow. <33

Well, you've seemed to master the art of description and it was key in your poem. It was a great poem and great topic to write about. Excellent job.