• the_fox 5w

    WH1T3 D34TH

    the glorious stretcher,
    white as a wraith,
    burning in the holy fire
    and drenched
    in my blood spillage.
    induced catatonia,
    should have gotten Alzheimer's
    before driving last night,
    with four bottles
    fermenting inside my stomach.
    one-twenty miles an hour,
    so determined to dodge death
    that it almost lead me
    to drift away from my own life.

    the car crash, the tree's karmic trunk
    seeming to be all the enemies of mine,
    my wreckage is now settled
    inside the intensive care unit;
    a crumbled ribcage, a mashed cranium,
    and my heart's floating
    across the chest cavity,
    with one of my lungs pulped
    to its juices.

    paraplegic from the neck-down,
    plastic tubes replacing
    every broken bone,
    several internal haemorrhages,
    powdered limbs, severed feet;
    the doctors talk about amputating,
    and that idea brings a pain to my head,
    greater than a sad poet's
    saddest poem.

    poison and barbiturates pouring
    down to my central nervous system;
    a burst urinary bladder has quenched
    the desire of getting laid.
    this stretcher treatment has shoveled
    all of my monetary to the dirt;
    and, now they're thinking of shoveling
    six-feet deep under the ground, tailored fit
    for the dimensions of my body,
    they have embellished me
    with the white paint, the white sheet is
    all over me;
    perfect invitation for the Grim Reaper.