Amore, amour, amoire, armoire, armory,
My mind mistakes nothing.
Spelling is your weapon, 
But today it is merely my trail.
My mind and heart reside inside me.
I plead they do not abandon me in action,
And in careful disregard I bluff.
For I find myself donning armor this morning.

My head has been,
Will be, invaded.
No helmet is required.
I am letting in the armies to pillage,
To take what knowledge they will. 
The pounding has already begun. 

Rituals of battle preparation,
Mindful and deliberate,
I’m not armoring myself from physical invasion. 
Clothing confidence layers,
Even when the brain can’t find words and exhaustion is an invisible cloak.
Armor from judgement, 
Maybe my own.
To me, words worn are a hero’s talisman,
Lightening moods or strengthening purpose.

But in the act of peeling on compression,
I ready for a day’s battle.
My own body’s dysfunction salted,
Regulated.
Relentlessly tracked.
Choosing my armor and mask,
I ready for the unknown,
Plan for pain,
And no win answers wounding.

Inevitable exhaustion of a battle fought in my brain, veins, nerves, lungs and heart, 
Fails to undermine fatigue’s foothold. 
Pending relapse reduces my tactics to mud,
Until rest and time return, 
My will to fight through fever and pain,
Again.