The Ventricle is the dying twitching muscle that commands all of him.
The smell of internal decay on his breath;
His skin feels cold and slippery, like wet wax
The veins of his eyeballs withdraw their color
The monitor sounds its patient but persistent alarm
My tongue is glued to my gums and tastes like dry cardboard
My heart feels me looking at the monitored rhythm
It pretends what it might feel like
Then it is in my throat
Dr. Smith makes an appearance.
We make a roadmap for Vahalla
The Heart keeps the Man alive
I am wondering if I will be eating today
He's just a "rule out MI with SOB" that's just ruled in
He's here because we put him here.
To thank him for his service feels cheap as if I was mocking him.
The heart picks him up and leans him forward
Begging him to breath
He becomes transparent and I see the soldiering on
The man is the heart and the heart
has surrendered.
The aching bloated angry man is left
Denying that a heart would give up so easily
without a fight.