everyone said that I’d be out like a light,
switched off, wouldn’t remember nothing;
I looked forward to it having had a few thinks
on the mind that I’d soon like to forget,
or at least have a few hours respite from.

oh, but not so fast lady,
no narcotic can numb you.

the needle was real enough that stuck in
to push tranquilizer and opiate through;
I didn’t feel the doctor’s hand on my shank,
but I saw everything that he examined
magnified so he could navigate his instrument.

you’ll not be taken
by what they’ve got.

lying in an hour of incarcerated recovery
hearing every discharge, every snore,
tied to a machine in one or two ways,
my mind, lucid and fluid, felt focused
as it wandered to its current playlist.

stronger than unconsciousness,
it seems to be my drug.

it is not a spell of death-like trickery,
it doesn’t put me under or out,
it rises and falls and puzzles and claws
every bit of me ‘til nothin’ seems left,
then it starts all over from the start.

oh lady, who are you kidding?

you want all of the feelings,
you want to put your finger into
the middle where it hurts and poke.
what good is having felt so much,
to then feel nothing at all.

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