I think I hate the intrusion the most.
The picking, prodding, sticking things
into arms. Ouch! Go away already.

Take off your clothes. Put on your
clothes. Stand there. Sit here. Do
as we say. We're helping you heal.

Privacy is an illusion. It disperses
as quickly as leaves fluttering in
a wind-storm. Transient, unreal.

Close eyes. Remember. Recall.
Don't let the dropping stones
obscure where I've come from.

It will come, you see, whether
one agrees or not. It spreads
regardless of my religion.

I despise the invasion of
my body. The doing things
to. The freezing and testing.

Touch inside. Pretend the
poking fingers are normal
events. Just another laugh.

Late. Dark. Lying in bed
watching a movie. Half
attention paid. I'm afraid.