seduction to destruction

a day in the strife

 

Thursday morning i woke up so sick that I went to the ER. I was admitted to the short stay unit, and they began poking.

They poked and I peed and they pricked and I'd bleed and
they nudged me awake when I stopped breathing. Sleep apnea they call it, but that's just another way to die, not the emergency which sent me to this room, pleading for painkillers and another chance.

Evidently, there was something compelling in the pallor of my person and I found mercy and favor in the heart of God's own servant- Dr. Luppi.

That's right- the doctor's name is Loopy, certain evidence there is a divine sense of humor to be found at the root of my current dilemna. I love God because God loves me, and He's polishing and turning me on a burning wheel, spinning this soul out to a fine point with an ever-lasting edge.

I tossed and turned until the burning gave way to a gentle buzz and my eyes opened again and the window was trees and wind. I was so happy not to hurt that I knew the beautiful indulgence of not giving a damn what anybody thought of me at that moment.

I was hardly at death's door,
or maybe harder than I know, I'll never know with any certainty- will you?
Happy and realizing the moment, I sat at that window, popping corn in the soft buttered bowl of my brain. I will not feign cynical wisdom now as I continue to color each breath with meaning. Sometimes it just means I've passed gas but there again, I've learned to love the flutter of my cheeks against warm sheets- a sonic symphony of sounds and scents.                   Where was I?

Looking out the window, swaddled in a fresh-baked blanket, warming my hands over a hot plate of potatoes and peas, with the promise of all the pills I'll need and a wink and a nudge on the IV when the lights go down.

My confidence bolstered and hope restored, I tasted this and that while I watched the window shimmer.
Wind whistled through the twisted limbs of the steadfast eucalyptus while I contemplated the empty parking lot.
I watched the wobble of the soap-bubble, the only evidence it was there. The clarity of the glass was its glory, and just as in every story from time immemorial, the crystal-clear beauty  was a subtle seduction to destruction. I dined and dozed and did not concern myself any further with philosophical succubi.

I drifted far but not for long, when I began to hear again the funky chatter of winged dinosaurs gathering in the tree in front of me. I kept my eyes closed, preferring the certainty of beauty as I clothed them in my imagination. They were great birds, and many, with the lowliest  more splendid than I'd ever seen before.
These princes of the air, keepers of the currents, potentates all, did sit amongst the branches and confer with one another the meaning of this mother's son before them, or more precisely, the means by which they may relieve him of his dinner roll. Thus my imaginings, instantaneously lost when I opened my eyes in response to a loud thwack on the glass.

Two common warblers, tiny and the very color dull, sat on a branch, watching their dimmer relation take a second stab at the dinner roll. The kamikaze cousin flapped into the air and out of sight but for a second, returning with such force I wonder if it's dead. The force-field did not give way. I buttered my bread and turned on the TV.

 

Reviews

[Hedra Helix]

Hmm, this reminds me of when hawksmoore from the bleed got meningitis. Is this real? And if so are you ok?

enjoyable readabilty as always.

[Snuggles McClintock]

viva la, viva la.

[Naomi Montana Walsh]

I loved the use of metaphore .. I wild and wonderful write.. humor and hope as well .. good going interesting subject

[LJW]

Was it a morphine drip?

That alone is worth a trip to the ER. :-)

I like your voice.

[Emily B]

are you sure it isn't pure, sweet poetry? the kind that rambles as if it doesn't really have to GET anywhere? like all your work, this is something that I will come back to on days when the philosophical succubi are hovering too near