Perspective
What have I done with my life? / The lightning lighting up / the hospital room floor. / Why did I have to die?
What have I done with my life? / The lightning lighting up / the hospital room floor. / Why did I have to die?
Stamina waning / Along with my patience / For the number of patients / Presenting with an emesis of symptoms
How does it look, Doc? / Hand hold, / Heads fold. / Cradle to Rock.
Please say / ninety-nine, / No not like / that, say it
As I take off my glasses / and rub my sore eyes / I realize I have / myopia / in more ways than one.
“Are you sexually active?” / His stethoscope gleamed in the light / Of the hospital room.
Plush carpeting / Sleek screens / Exotic fruit and / Green tea / First-class on trains is penetrable, and they have chips and soda / But there is no mistaking first-class in the hospital
An indulgent gasp / grasps the molded corners / dry tongue to chipping paint / searching for a word to say
Egg shell coat: / Tread softly, / Quietly. / To not crack the illusion / Of knowledge, / Bold aspirations.
Where do the squirrels go / during the rain? / Can they hear the thunder? / Can they feel my pain?
I cut where I am told, my arms moving with mechanical precision, / Following imaginary lines running throughout the body.
Everyone / in this cold / room is dead.