Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.14.12.254
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Intravenous therapy,
She's watching over me.
Grasping my hand,
She whispers, "please dear, count to ten."

Six... piercing paralysis,
Her hand cold as the air.
She lets go, leaving me there.
Alone, squirming, for just one prayer.

Yelling, and screaming.
Kicking, twisting, and questioning.
Nothing happens, its all in my head.
Frozen, welded to my metal death bed.

Minutes and hours tick away,
Slow, painful psychological decay.
I try to think of hating her,
But those thoughts just blur,
her pretty face.

Then I realize why I'm actually here.

Amidst the psychotic silence,
she walks in, and smiles.
She says, "Darling, this won't take a while."
Okay I say, dismissing the horror of the situation.
Her angelic voice, sedating all sensations.

I see the scalpels, forceps,
retractors, and clamps.
Completely trusting, blinded by the hanging lamp.
It won't hurt, so doctor please just cut.

Bloody plasmic mess, 
Pressure to suppress,
Wide open arteries, surgical misery.
No anesthetics. Painless, no distress.

She carves a circle in my chest.
I don't contest, just attest.
Let her carve into me, at my own request.
Just promise, no cardiac arrest.

She pulls out my heart.
Leaving my entire chest hollow.
No more emotions, 
the hardest pill to swallow.
But it is why I'm here.
No reason to fear.

Doctor, all I ask is you don't hurt it anymore.
You do what you want with it, it's completely yours.
Now I'm heartless, and only function with my brain.
Emotionless logic was the only way to sustain.

My future seems brighter,
All my loves spent, cut from the source.
I feel so much lighter, of course. 
It was the heart.
Thank you doctor, for pulling me apart, 
making me feel so alive.
The love, the emotions, the surgery, 
my new will to survive.

Thats when she said,

"Darling, it's all in your head. You've been dead since we first met."
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required