Bent double,
I staggered, slipped
headfirst into trouble.
Something was wrong.
Stomach twisted in barbed wire grip.
In my ears, not the usual songs.
I heard waves,
then a bubble burst.
I felt myself float skywards
as the crimson flowed
out of me.
Scrunched,
like a crisp packet,
wracked in pain.
I stacked unwanted thoughts,
like refilling a
supermarket shelf
to stop the aching.
It kept coming.Shaking.
The fear making the pain
feel twice as menacing.
Flooding.
Haemorrhaging
Every part of my life emptying
over walls, floors, doors.
A wash over my clothes.
Red from head to toe.
I bled, a torrent from my throat.
Strength. left to fend for itself
I stumbled, swaying, cursing my health,
like a drunk on payday
but I haven't touched
a drop in years.
Did someone spike my drink?
Or is this just arrears
for the debts I accrued
over forgotten tears.
Blue lights flare as I drift,
somewhere not here.
Supine, I watch through
blurry drugged eyes.
Foggy existence
of chemical smiles.
Parallel to the earth,
interred in hospital grave.
Is this my final night?
Do I have strength enough to fight?
Why not add some pneumonia
for good measure?
Make it a double.
It'll be my pleasure
I started to see a future
in words, popping into existence.
Just little budding stars
starting to form, in the edges of dreams.
Beyond the nightly screams
from two beds down.
I found myself rising
slowly from the grave.
Ink sprayed across my palms,
I questioned.
Is this how I will be saved?
Thanks for reading.
taken from the #escapril prompt
"Posture"
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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