Because my emergency visits to the ER are the only times I feel okay.
Buzz buzz buzzing lights coursing overhead consume me.
And the beep beep beeping machines attuned to the very mess they helped to create.
A cash bought merit badge ain't worth shit.
But that doesn't mean Mr. Henderson isn't any less lonely.
The phone ring ring ringing with news of more building blocks and beard scratching, and, well, the click click clicking of G and lowercase q.
The prescribed eye pain and teeth soreness of the static and stoic and stagnant waiting room air.
Gone undiagnosed, busy night, severity.
Did Albrite know when he was bitten that the tick tock tocking would leave me smitten?
Predicament.
5:19, still going.
I have about seven deep breaths left.
55:03, we'll be over.
But again and again, we'll see.
Of course, utterly describable, but I refuse.
Less emergesonic. My time has come.
