Day by day we heal ever so gradually, even as we acknowledge the road to dusty death lies visible before us. And we must steel ourselves to pack-up and set-out to begin again on tomorrow's long journey into night.
Entropy, thou witch, has cursed our bones and flesh. We crawl to the edge of the oasis of good feeling and then the mecacah toss us rudely back on the stinging sand, laughing at our pitious moans. They tell me it's the drugs; but I know evil spirits when I feel them gnawing on my soul! The real question; Were they really Doctors or intergalactic Aliens intent upon harvesting my essences?
I lie in bed with my eyes shut against the pain, wondering when the rude experiments they are performing will end. The probes, the tubes, the suction machines and I open my eyes to recognize that it is our Brazilian cleaning ladies who are violating me as I lay helpless. They seem to be talking to each other in a language I cannot understand. They are giving me a sponge bath. The young one with long dark eyelashes is unsure how to procede. They point at my privates and tell her "pretend he is your boyfriend." She completes the hygiene in a most satisfying way. I want her for my nurse.
But once again, it is likely just one of the thousands of daily drug-induced screenplays that occupy my mental viewing screen. Don't get me wrong, it beats working, but I am not sure it beats drinking.
No comments:
Post a Comment