Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2013
The waves rush in and out again,
Legs useless, hands limp, arms bent,
The masked ones have departed,
the cutting now has quit.

Silent, though I wish to scream,
Brain it is pounding,
in a preamble to explode.
White light and incessant buzzing,
relentless pain is throbbing,
conveying its full extent.

Hands and kind face suddenly appear,
Holding blessed instrument,
Approaching now quite near,

Into my drip it does commence,
I descend into the depths,
white to grey to black again.
Down I go in welcome spin,
into the embrace of oblivion,
Ah, Morpheus my dear,
dear sweet friend.

Wake me not until I'm dead,
Or 'til the tide does ebb again.
Hospital stay 2011, Brain Surgery.
The Greek God of Sleep; Morpheus"
And namesake of a common pain
reducing addictive drug, much
abused by certain seekers of
emotional relief.
Stephen E Yocum
Written by
Stephen E Yocum  M/North Western Oregon
(M/North Western Oregon)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems