What is that mystery smell coming out of the recliner?
It's like a combination of garbage and surgery patient.
Just like that summer I lost my arm
and forgot I had a heart.
Y'know, it still hurts when it snows.
Going on five years now.
It gave me a whole new wealth of excuses.
A new mutilation to fear.
Why was I even thinking about that today?
Because of the smell? Of the chair?
Or the ambulance ride?
That wasn't a good summer either...
How many times did I fall asleep to those green masks
neutral tones, and white sterile lights racing by?
How many more times?
Two if I'm lucky.
It's the second scariest thing to fall asleep to
that cold amputated chaos and bustle
the first is silence.
Black quiet nothing.
It's not even cold,
and I made up the light at the end of the tunnel,
There was no tunnel
only weightlessness, without fear, without redemption.
You just
sink
to the bottom of the bathtub
all the way through the floor.
And you're gone,
Maybe not even forever.
But it feels like having never fallen in love...
