The instruments

I worry about my voice
all the time it's
hard not to think about
especially when
I smoke
cough makes me
I imagine waking
up one day
no words i've lost it
doc says it's cancer and my
vocal chords gotta go
and wake up in
cold sweats
just that shit dream again and then
I worry about my hands
think about them being
in an
elevator door
chopped off
like you might see in a
final destination movie
getting some
infection that
makes them turn green and
the fingers fall
like icicles stiff
and cold
I think about
having to
give up
divine form of
expression and so help me
I might give up
myself then