The Perfect Dose
THE PERFECT DOSE
after the drugs I lay on my back
covered under cool clean sheets
departing into fluorescent lights
passage travels tubes of liquid state
body perfectly fixed and in tune
but still…
my dead mind sits in the corner of
the room like a ghost watching its
departed body… longing for
another chance at life
I slide under once again
resigned
a birthright, genetics, bad luck
permanent or transient
understood or overlooked
perhaps
Heaven forbid…
chronic without a cure?
squinting I stare into bright
hospital lights pulled from
shell forced into sight the
confidence of which I was
incapable
lifeless and sticky
deathless but sickly
hours move
I blank out
what’s straight ahead
avoiding all that floats
above this pristine bed
Hovering
Soaring
Hanging
Sinking
Drifting on….
the perfect dose
© Kim van Breda—30 September 2015
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