Lying on the icy tiles,
Having a little more
Of what doctor prescribed.
"You should be dead before the wait is over."
I just didn't know the staff was so helpful.
They let me take in the medication
Through the cracks of my linoleum bed.
They must be waiting for
My remission to relapse.
Don't worry, They'll check on me
When they finish their Vanity Fair.
Then, They will see
What it means to be
Forgotten, abandoned, and alone
By the sound of a silent groan and the sight of a lifeless blouse
As I died on the floor of My Savior's House.
*For Esmin Green. May it Never. Happen. Again.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
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