I was recently in the hospital (waiting on someone-nothing serious), and I began to examine the noises, ppl, and things that were happening. I then decide to just jot little pieces and ended up with this;

I don’t wanna die of old age

Have the last thing I do make love to an I.V

If I knew a synonym for the word fuck

I would use it

So instead I just want to fuck him

Make him understand what it feels like to be in control

They look like sedated free slaves

No though of where they are going

Sleep like death Penalty

They are consultants of demise

He wipes the blood away from a leaking I.V

As if thinking of the daughter’s hair he may never stroke

Or the tanner oil he may never smell from the inside of his son’s baseball glove

It continues to leak and the memories pour to the beat of each drip

“Doctor, Doctor-why are you avoiding me he silently yells”

Like a baby with a immune system aging backwards

He is frail

Waiting for the patient to close palms like a disciple

The doctor doesn’t even cut a stare

Like a fed up wife who has already printed the papers

The decisions is made

We are sinners of love

There is no room for relationships here

His family doesn’t even know he’s been admitted

Like a dead body in the morgue

He’s waiting to be claimed

This lady reminds me of my grandmother

(all old ladies do)

Resistant because fright defeats love

Her daughter watches reminding me of my mother

The only one that can speak without protest

She’s afraid the cosigning has taken her on a guilt trip

Foe now she understands that her mother is just a prehistoric woman

Hurting from a lost love

And the only closure she has is an empty house in a homeland where survival is no longer her possession