Awakenings

Living staues loom
around the bare hospital room.

Quiet.
More peaceful than the flaking walls.
A wood of sorts
with human trees,
where no bird calls
and no thing crawls.

A breathing corpse,
thanks to God no mind inside.
Like a dummy in a shop.
No thoughts to hide or start to stop.
A drug of drop.
A drop of drug.
A phial of life to make the marble flesh.
A blink, a yawn, awake.

Young?
I am young.
I am twenty three.
It is nineteen twenty three.
How can all this future be?

A needle prick to break the spell.
Awake for now and free.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.