this morning
there will be a
disconnection
and an almost
certain death will
follow not long after
the machines keeping
the body alive
even though there is
no electricity
driving the meat
it seems almost
callous how simply
pulling a plug
can erase an existence
even if it is just
a matter of forcing
a corpse into a
facsimile of living
eyelids taped shut
tubes incubating to
force air into lungs
a dreamless sleep of
brain death so close
to the holiday season

and there is nothing
to be done from over
a thousand miles away
except to accept this
dire solution to a
mounting of bills for
an empty vessel no one
wants to accept the
responsibility for
disconnecting from the
wall outlet of another
for profit hospital
willing to continue a
facade in place of life
because an empty bed
is one in which there
is no money to be made
and the person that was
in the mannequin of flesh
dissipated into the æther
the moment his brain
ruptured in a spray of
broken vessels shorting
out the electricity in
the gelatinous pool of
chemicals that once made
him the person that he
will never be again

once the sparks stop
firing the delusion melts
into another absentee
a bloody mudpuddle in
an entropic dissolution
where the only solution
is to remove the juice
and let the delusion of
hope fade from the gray