A surreal dream.
Gloved hands moved my body on a metal slab.
The blinding light hovered over me, like the mouth of God.
Before my eyes could reach him,
The darkness swallowed me whole.
Four of them surround me.
Pale blue cloth clings to my skin.
White the color of apathy.
Washed out blue,
The color of feigned joy.
It rubbed the insides of my mouth.
The gloved fingers dabbed only ice upon my lips.
As if ices were to appease the dried bark in my mouth.
When the fingers finally spared me the cup, my tongue greedily lapped it in.
The color like the inside of a ripened guava.
The horrible stench of the scores of medication.
The gloved fingers chastise me before raising the cup to my cracked lips once more.
Again with the same outcome.
They’d slap the skin red,
And let the crimson flow out of me.
They made me feel dirty,
With my own personal track marks.
Darker than violets with a yellow tooth glow.
The color of a plum with a brown rotted core.
Some were maroon rusted like metal.
My chest became the center piece of my home.
Indents on my body,
Like unmolded clay.
The tattoos with a story,