overly talkative doctors

it feels like
everywhere i go
there are too many
overly talkative
doctors with heavy
wooden mallets
stabbing and prodding
while speaking
in absolute gibberish
it smells of
harsh disinfectant
as they cinch
the heavy leather
tight around my chest
the squeaking wheel
of the gurney
under the flickering
yellow bulbs creating
shadows behind the
frosted glass doors
a saw motor whines
a symphony of cries
amid a cacophony
of wet ragged coughs

death loiters over
by the coffee maker
flirting with the
exhausted nurses in
blood spattered scrubs
as a priest staggers
punch-drunk and reeling
muttering last rites
monotonously as
crimson runs slowly
down his cheeks

we writhe
maggots on our
rusted chariots
awaiting
our inglorious end
half dead already
so pumped full of
whatever the latest
designer opioid
rushed to market
buys off the board
this week
unconcerned of
long term side effects
anything to numb
the ebbing call of
the emptiness
all around us
wheeled into a
decommissioned
slaughterhouse
to remove the tumors
carefully cultivated
by the poisons
we gleefully ingest

it is cold
in a fleeting
existential
sort of way
marrow deep
an ache sighing
a tightness
in the chest
everything hurts
overly talkative
doctors droning
semiautonomous
pill dispensers
making the entire
world numb

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