Poem

Hospital Hate

In between my stomach and my back is an explosion that pulls my intestines down to my toes.

It’s raining and I can hear the cells in my brain pop.

My body is in shock and I’m reaching and reaching.

I can taste the morphine in my veins and I don’t like that my left arm is on fire.

Where am I?

I am going to die here.

I am a receiver. The nurses change the channels when the music is too slow.

The nurses listen to my body.

Infection.

Tubes in my throat suck my nine lives away.

I fall asleep.

Where am I?

Cocktails are shot directly into my heart, making me polka dotted.

I’m underwater behind my chest.

I can feel my lungs fill with tremor.

“Don’t go.”

I’m being airlifted out of myself.

“Don’t go.”

Whispers from my pillow case.

“Wake.”

I hold onto my fingertips