10/7/08

Breaths fill a hollow frame, barely sufficient to support the heartbeat that weakens by the minute. Skin slowly rips apart, and a small, thin crack appears right down the middle. Growing and growing until a chasm breaks open and thoughts undulate forth, producing a scream that is only heard by the eyes. Colors of rage explode across planes of vision. The creaking of breaking bones matches the clamor of others condemned to the same fate. Finger nails tear into muscle, into skin- an anodyne to make one stoic. A lacuna is formed, a heart now non-existent, and option after option failing to take it's place. Where's the antidote so badly needed? The pain is not stopping and I fear my resolve to fight is weakening. Stitches and sutures to close the gap, splints to set the bones, tape to cover the screams. As eyes are glued shut, it is realized that this doctor is not healing, much less a doctor at all. Rather an angel of death in disguise, preparing for a funeral pyre.