I could kick myself. Wait I already did, didn't I?

charcoal laced memory

I didn't want
to die-
I only wanted to disappear
for awhile.

And I did,
but it wasn't quite
what I'd had in mind.

I remember the ambulance ride,
the first two minutes perhaps
where I asked them
'will I die?'

Then darkness
and the whir
of a long corridor
though I can't recall
if I was there
or if it was just
in my head.

The next memory I have
is of black
being poured down my throat-

I think it tasted of grape
but I must be wrong
since charcoal
and grape
aren't related.

Now I'm
in a hospital bed
with plummeting blood pressure,
feeling cold as stone
and in and out of...
in and out...

of this state
where they
make you stay awake
as soon as you nod off
because they won't let you go,
won't let me go.

And I'm asked questions
my tongue can't answer.
My brain forms the sentence
but all they can hear is
'slle leel brbrb aate teebe'
or some other nonsense.

The next stop
was the intensive care unit.
I stayed there all day
waiting for a verdict
from the psychiatrist.
Was I fit to go home?
Only she could say.

Last night I was cleared
to go home,
free to sleep in my own bed,
free to be alive
to oppose death.

And here I am.

Poetry by intothehaze
Read 1094 times
Written on 2005-11-18 at 17:43

Tags Charcoal  Darkness  Black 

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