Crack a bottle

As I meet up with my friends

I feel my vision start to blur

my words start to slur

He insists he's okay to drive

I see the slight discoloration

the red in his eyes 

from all the beers he's had

I don't go in the car.

I'm having a good time

 

behind the car

the world starts to swirl

My friends faces become distorted

before I know it,

 I feel

the weight of my legs

collapsing underneath me

I fall under the car.

I felt a small pang.

the drinks numb everything

all of a sudden everybody was screaming.

My head collided with the tire,

luckily not scattered from accelerating

I hear the screams

The hard cracks in my friends voice

before everything fades.

I wake up.

Bright lights

white ceiling

I try to look 

turn my head

I feel a pain like never before

My head feels like 

a dented, spilled gallon of milk.

Sloshing, damaged.

I can't open my eyes

I can't think.

I can't feel the thoughts running through my head.

I hear a different range of voices around me.

It takes me longer than it should to realize I'm in a hospital bed.

Moving my neck just an inch

feels like a mile

I don't remember last night.

I don't remember anything.

All the drinks from last night come up

I scream in pain,

my sloshed head going side to side.

I hear everyone talking

I don't know who they are.

I should recognize the blouse that hangs over me,

the lightest touches of my forehead

I can't see her features

but I can hear her harsh crying

her heart stings.

A smaller figure

just the top of their head

warped and fuzzy

comes over to me

They don't speak

they just stare

and I can only wonder

what's happened to me.

The black abyss called sleep

lures me to my own reality

no lights

no recollection

no nothing

everything is a blank slate.

It's been three days since he's been admitted

sleeping mostly, 

unaware he has a highly fatal

brain hemorrhage, a concussion, 

a traumatic brain injury.

He should be dead.

we can't understand how he isn't

but I pray he keeps holding on

to every last piece of his head he has left.

A few more days pass

I recognize the warped little figure

as the doctor asks me who the president is

what year it is.

It's my little sister

at only fifteen

watching her big brother

cling onto life

She says nothing

just stares

at my body

my stringy,

spidery body.

There's so many things attached to me

my chest

my head

my arms

I still can't move.

My memory comes back

the blouse is my strong,

loving mother

I see a figure 

loom in the corner of the room.

And immediately recognize my father.

Both look distraught

exhausted

and barren of sleep

My little sister 

just watches as I sleep

she stares at the floor now

not able to look at me.

I finally get out

flowers fill the room

multiple people gather 

from many nights before.

I get out from the dark

The light no longer hurts my eyes

I can turn and see my family

my mother starts to cry.

"You are so lucky."

a deep voice tells me

their ghostly attire

matches the floor.

I was so close to death 

 my funeral

 

should have been planned

a week ago

and I had no idea.

Author's Note

This poem is about my brother who suffers from a TBI, is epileptic, has a reoccurring stutter, and has memory problems from a drunk driving incident. This was almost four years ago, on Halloween night.