PCA

 

fuzzy warm haze

voices hushed in whispers,

          so far away

Teatime; they chew slowly, mouths open

cheap bendy cutlery chinks and chimes

dimly, like the striking of my teeth

          My bones

Aching, sore arm –

the morose Nurse has

jacked me up

to the magical morphium machine

and handed me a soft, red

          plastic button…

Each slow press sets whirring,

spinning, flashing liquid crystal

as the plunger inches forward

One black line on the gauge

sweet syrup

buzzes in gently and warms my arm

tingling waves emanate

and pulse through me

          comforting

kissing, caressing

Eyelids heavy and happy.

 

One hour passes in an ocean of dreams

recollections, orgasms

          I feel so very alone – just floating

with my nose pressed against the ceiling.