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emergency room or fear of dying

Just a punch of anesthesia.
A needle to the vein.
I am all insouciant and light,
all pain hushed, the heart
now quiet. The hours bears
the insignia of the moment.
Dear, the mind is naught,
a tight row of zeros. Winter
has arrived. We rush to this
emergency; this crossroad
of life, of death, pinnacled,
passed, all urgent and fierce.
I fly fast to the peak. The
absence of life, of blood flow
of strife. I am hopped up
on Dilaudid. I  fly
to Abraham's bosom.

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