TABLE
by TheGodfather
Posted: 27 July 2004 Word Count: 226 Summary: An operating room |
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A pulsating green glow lights the room.
Four bald men stand around the head
of the table I lie on.
My cheeks hang loosely and drool forms
in the corner of my mouth.
The bright surgical lights on the ceiling
make my eyes water.
I feel the cold metal slowly slice a line
across my forehead.
Warm liquid runs down my temple and then down
the side of my neck.
They speak in gibberish I don’t understand
and look different than any men I’ve ever seen.
One of them walks over to a white, metal cabinet
and returns with his right hand held in front of him.
His hand is open flat with a stamp-sized computer chip
lying in the center.
One of the others picks up the chip with steel prongs.
I feel them saw a line across my skull now
where they had cut the skin.
The electric saw makes a high-pitched sound that
causes blood to trickle out my ears.
One of them places a mask over my mouth
forcing air into my mouth and up my nose.
Lovely gas.
My vision glazes over and blurs.
He walks away, returns,
and grabs my arm.
A cotton swab chills my forearm,
and I can feel the needle fill my veins.
I watch his fingers count above me, Three, Two…
my vision floods with green.
Four bald men stand around the head
of the table I lie on.
My cheeks hang loosely and drool forms
in the corner of my mouth.
The bright surgical lights on the ceiling
make my eyes water.
I feel the cold metal slowly slice a line
across my forehead.
Warm liquid runs down my temple and then down
the side of my neck.
They speak in gibberish I don’t understand
and look different than any men I’ve ever seen.
One of them walks over to a white, metal cabinet
and returns with his right hand held in front of him.
His hand is open flat with a stamp-sized computer chip
lying in the center.
One of the others picks up the chip with steel prongs.
I feel them saw a line across my skull now
where they had cut the skin.
The electric saw makes a high-pitched sound that
causes blood to trickle out my ears.
One of them places a mask over my mouth
forcing air into my mouth and up my nose.
Lovely gas.
My vision glazes over and blurs.
He walks away, returns,
and grabs my arm.
A cotton swab chills my forearm,
and I can feel the needle fill my veins.
I watch his fingers count above me, Three, Two…
my vision floods with green.
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