Beeps. Hand-held communication radios. Conversation.
Noises fill the area beyond
My sliding curtain.
Where is my nurse?
Where is my doctor?
I can't feel much,
And I want some Fucking Relief.
"Breathe normally."
"Take a deep breath and hold it."
Says the Toshiba machine.
There is no beauty to
Infect this paper tonight.
I want that taxidermy bear
Back. Instead I have bald
Women with holes in their skulls.
The hospital of 2010 would be
A lovely place for Mr. Poe.
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