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"Clear!"

No words are said

as I'm lying on this white sterile bed.

Oxygen is forced down my throat.

Needing to breathe; wanting to choke.

All of a sudden, my plummeting heart

skips a beat and fails to start.

All around me, all I hear:

voices shouting "STAT" and "CLEAR!"

And now a jolt that shakes my core,

like heavy waves that beat the shore...

Squeezing and shocking my feeble brain;

screaming on the verges of insane.

All is still now, like light rain—

I feel nothing; I feel no pain.

Now it's quiet; now it's black;

now my life, I do lack.

Where's the sound of my wheezing breath?

Have I reached predicted death?

Am I sinking far below?

Where the hell'd that word "clear" go?

 

 Â© 1998 Koda Gallegos & Niki Artieschoufsky, All Rights Reserved

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Walking Here & There: and Other Early Works

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