G.O.D.
June 17, 2008Mr. ____ lies there on his bed.
catheter stuck up his ass breathing life into him.
Taking away some of that nasty stuff too that can kill you.
A moment’s notice pain is relieved by an artificial morphine.
A mind trick to alleviate an injury within.
The clock’s hands melt onto its white surface.
Caging the room in a prison of endless thoughts.
A child with clear brown eyes walks into the room.
The child looks around and sees a bed, two white chairs,
a sofa, and a TV on the right corner of the white-faced room.
He looks at Mr. ____ lying on the bed attached to a machine—barely breathing.
Mr. ____ looks at the child
sees the boy’s distinct features, the stark differences from his hues.
The lucidity of the child’s brown eyes, looking at him intently.
Mr. ____ feels a blazing cocktail of emotions bursting at the seams.
He feels a sudden thrashing of waves well up in him.
Something the shapeless doppelgangers failed to do,
mere imitations of an illusory dream.
Ubiquitous in its transcendence, piercing through the shadows…
his son breathes heavily on his leathery skin.
His life flashed before him in the quicksand
of the time bend whirlpool.
His inchoate existence is thwarted by the boy’s sweet innocence
in the backwash of the amorphous darkness of the world.
A glint of light passes through him
he sees a piece of long lost beauty in the sunset.
He sees a face, beautiful and distinct
across the white surface of the ceiling.
His shapeless being takes a form of his own
grasping his existence at the center.
Mr. ____ moves his body as his own.
He opens his eyes and looks on
at the well-lighted room in the darkness.
