Often after a trauma
there is the mundane revery
if I could only
mine was a dream of an unbearable tartness
in a drink of volcanic coldness
I sipped metallic hospital crushed ice water
tried not to vomit up the simplest of soups
normally there is the gift of not desiring
the smell of nausea clings to things
that can’t be kept down but
I conjured up something like limeade
as a nuclear bomb is something like a firecracker
while the tubes of lukewarm glucose, morphine
and hot piss kept me alive.
written in response to a dVerse prompt
ewww…well i guess you can be glad you survived eh…mmm…envisioning the taste in the mouth now…
i do like limeade though….much better than hot piss….blech
oh heck… the scents are overwhelming in this…ha…dang it..intense images.. hospital times are no fun and the pain is felt
A hospital so well depicted. A cold volcano.. so grueling, and the hot piss… yik.. well at least alive to feel this, and hopefully recovering.
So vivid!! Glad you’re okay.
Definitely another tact with the theme; I like the volcano image along with the limeade!
Bang, def pushing the edges of comfortable, thank goodness it was only a dream !!
Well, actually… but I got better. Definitely something of the autobiographical in this one, I’m afraid…
the nuclear bomb equivalent of limeaid… I wonder what on earth that could feel or taste like, but acidic to say the least. strong writing here. -mike
Almost too vividly described! I felt it with you.