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Robert McQuate May 2017
I must talk quick,
For I'm unsure as to when this feeling I'm having shall fade.

An inner monologue of sorts,
Much like that of Johnny Depp as he plays  the role of Hunter S. Thompson in the film "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas"

How far,
Dear Reader,
Would you go to stick to your core beliefs?
Even if that means being Cold, Alone, and Abandoned for the Wolves,
Excommunicated and Exiled?
How strong is your faith in your ideals,
Reader?

Hopefully most of you won't ever have to go to such lengths,
But to those who do,
You unfortunate individuals,
I wish you good luck and Godspeed.
Been there before,
And I don't relish ever going back to that.

But if you weather the storm,
I'll be there at the finish line,
With a bottle of water and a change of clothes.
Just woke up in my hospital room after a scheduled procedure. Figured I'd take advantage of writing a piece whilst still loopy on medication, who knows what I'll remember?
James Cumberland Feb 2017
"We are the witnesses to how alike all men bleed."*
Man our easel, we stretch clean canvas over scarlet brushstrokes,
We work stitchings like guitar strings,
find a melody in the mending,
hide scars like bass, in clean skin,
and hide the pain from each ending.
Their lungs sing.

An alto for death's row,
its sound makes your heart slow.
Let's see what you have inside,
with open eyes, your mother cried,
in toupe-walled rooms, we cut the cord,
no savage mark by a doctor's sword.

Just silence and sadness,
greyness and madness,
long halls and dancers,
small windows and glances.
Morning abate
with hazelnut
spread on
toast that
surmount any
surprise with
lather that
only minutes
elongated tweezers
frequent inside
strand that
abet her
with hazing
particles for
extremes package
soon upon
her face
Midnight and I'm finally awake in my hospital bed,
There was an accident which almost cost my life
Rushed, rush to the emergency room
A man in white cloak says "Bring another bag, replace all the loss blood in her system. "
Eyes were focused on the lightings above.
Consciousness has left the body in the hands of a stranger.
Limbs were broken but wait, there's more.
I reached for my phone to play its tunes,
Browsed chrome, and spot myself to a familiar page
Nothing fascinating, only a sentiment of a man
I read through the pages as Sam Smith sings "Lay Me Down"
Water in my eyes started to flow while the moonlight glows
Like an empty shell in the ocean, I remain still.
Days ago, I had everyone introduce themselves.
The back side of the brain was hit, but the frontal lobe was damaged badly, a contracoup.
Doctor says this won't be permanent, just a temporary amnesia.
I listened to the ramblings around, I am lost.
Attention deficit disorder makes it hard to focus
My thoughts keep on going back to the man behind those lines
Who are you?
How are we related?
I dig my mem'ries
Deeper I go each ******* day
Blank, nothing but a blank parchment
I lost it in the seven seas.
Let's try and retrieve it.
No, once gone, there's no going back.
No, don't say no.
At least let me do my best.
Such a stubborn woman.
For once, listen to what they say
You're at fault for your misery
I don't give up, I never give up.
This is just a temporary memory lost, nothing that much.
The blood started dripping again,
I stared at the stars and the moon above.
In the realm of dreams, I return.
As an old love song says **"Till the day my life is through, this I promise you. "
****, my head aches.
Ryan Stevens Sep 2016
The scar crisscrossing your body is a road-map that will never lead back to the old you.

And so you run on a twisted and bent road. Hoping to be scrubbed clean beneath this blue, January sky.

The way back, simply, is to just go further in…one foot in front of the other.
Back in January I was given clearance to start working out again. My last surgery had been just before Thanksgiving. There is never truly a way back. Not to yesterday. Not to our old selves. There is really only further in.
Ryan Stevens Sep 2016
I
[After surgery]

Your new skin is a flat, white stone washed up into the arms of the shore

you'll need to become the rough shoulder of the sea

and wash over it

rise and fall

over and over

rise and fall

until the seams split

until eventually it slips back in place over your bones

and folds once again over the two empty caves of your eyes

until it wraps around the base of your skull

and begins to sponge up your mind

which has been elsewhere

seeped out and spread

as an unbound ocean

through the dark void of anesthesia

until you once again become small and unbroken

II
[Upon waking]

The entirety of your mind is contained within the few ounces

of ice chips in the Styrofoam cup on the tray

next to your hospital bed

you'll have to crush the ice with your teeth

let it melt over your tongue

let it seep back down your throat

over and over again

until you feel yourself

climbing up

and into

climbing up

and just beneath

the surface of your eyes

wide and clear

through this final surrender

wide and clear

through this

long and drifting

homecoming
In 2015 I underwent five surgeries for my Crohn's disease. Each was a challenge. I am absolutely fascinated by the anesthesia process. How our minds can be completely shut down. No memories can form. I hope death is not like that. At least I choose to believe it is not.
My mind bursts in fear
Upcoming electrifying storm of needles and terrifying tools
... whatever that comes next...
I don't care if it will be fast and simple.
It's MY body, MY pain.
If I must sign for it, it should be my choice!
My cloudy eyes seek only one thing on the death's menu...
General anaesthesia please.
Hospitals... HELL in disguise.
Countdown to hell
Luna Lynn Jun 2016
as quick as it began
it ended
i left for sure
a blackness unlike the dark
it was a spacious energy of pure
mountain tops overlooking
valleys and rivers and seas
i stood at the edge at the highest point
and breathed in deep
i exhaled
and felt my wings
looking down there wasn't fear
only peace
i sat and smiled
i wasn't alone
but it was me
and i was free

pushed back into my being
with tubes and wires and machines
i heard the rain
i heard the thunder
and knew God let it be
a new day
a new life
a rebirth of all things
(C) Maxwell 2016
Fudz Lana May 2016
I can hear it slicing through my brain,
like a sharp, stray tune of imperfect melody.
It tampers with desolate whimpers
A cry for attention
My contoured skin is peeled away
by those words

"Never will I be,
Pretty."

If I could just cut it off
like excess skin
like layers of flabby fats

If there's a liposuction
for dark thoughts
If I can tuck it
away from my tummy

I'd do it in a heartbeat.
A poem I wrote for a play
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