morphine and vicodin create a haze, nothing more
no relief in sight for my serious injuries, the ones to my heart and soul I sit waiting for a visit that I know will not come. I take inventory of this world where I wait. Sounds of motion in a hallway that I cannot see, as the world moves beyond comedies like my life. I feel the fear mixed with relief in others, as some find salvation or further damnation. wonder where my soul sits on the scale. They arrive meek, mild, with a touch of embarrassment, heads bowed, knowing the disappointment they bring. could they talk, they could say it no better. Nothing says, "I'm done with you," quite like carnations from her. |
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