Wednesday, December 21, 2016


Clean cowards. They barely. And their nurses are left to inflict, tend to and clean the wounds.
Elbow deep in what comes from me. She pushed up into my ribs, punctured the arms and in between the legs, dripped out fluid elsewhere. While she implements the swift, exact tugs she grips my wrist, holds it above my head, pressing, a lot of weight--her benefit or mine. But I needed it. Eyes are half closed cuz she pushes my chin up while she sticks fingers in my mouth and lots of tears flow down the sides from burning. Salivated on those blue gloves from the hurt and inability to swallow spit, smell them. Feeling teeth sticking out. She hurts me but it is an assurance. I nod with jaw locked open by her middle and index. Other fingers press on vertebrate behind neck. It could be like a choke hold. If I was well I would like this positioning. Says they'll heal but it'll scar. Follows up--But who is going to be looking inside my mouth besides someone like her? If you knew. This medical attention is nothing short of grace. In this attendance, I know I am blessed. Royal.

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