It killed me to see him like this, but he's better now...
The blinding white walls breathed sorrow
The perfectly squared tiles pulsed like a broken heartbeat
The rays of yellow light sunk the room into a fake illusion
And the rhythmic sound of morphine dripping did nothing to calm your erratic nerves.
Like fish out of water tubes emerged from his frail arms
And a transparent snake slithered into his nose
His sunken eyes slowly drooped shut
But his trembling hand never stopped grasping yours
The air didn't smell of hand sanitizer and chemicals
It smelt of processed food and decaying people
The sound wasn't soft and silent
It was a jumble of coughs and mutters and bangs
And the feeling wasn't light or worried
It was consuming, it ate away at your heart and oceans prodded at your eyes and claws scraped your throat and your stomach exploded.
And so you spun and left, every large step promising to put you far away from that place
Because he was sick, you were losing him, and there was nothing you could do but stare and that, made you sick.
