Agony shoots through my body
The world closes in,
focuses every nerve end,
on one thing.
Calm, stern figures inject God knows what
into my veins.
Spasms become all over aching,
The madness begins.
I am lost in a black hole.
Deluded distress invades the inky space.
I doubt my surroundings –
everything is deformed.
Drifts of feathery black
fibres sway from every point of contact
menacing to enmesh me in their
web with sparks at every crossing.
Time crawls. I am awake
but can make no sense of anything.
A scarlet glow oils its way into my space,
widens, becomes golden
as daylight impinges
on my phantasmagoria.
A smiling white-clad figure approaches.
So does more torture.
Your medication. No, please.
I apologise that this is not my usual piece of frothy wordling. In case anyone is in any doubt, this is an accurate account of my nights in hospital ending a week ago. As I’ve already recounted, speech and language became absurd or absent; handwriting changed to that of a drunken insect, too small to read. I did make jottings for a poem during more lucid moments, and my son took photographs of the pages, which I will post when I am allowed more time on the computer. OPIATES do MUCH MORE THAN KILL PAIN: they DESTROY BRAINS. DON’T DO IT.
Posted for Brenda’s Sunday Whirl