Burning Through (75mg Caliber)
With no preamble, my mind tells me: Today is the last day for the medication. Even though the bottomless bottle still rattles with an expectation to "take until complete," I have to pause this endless stream of chemistry.
I see the haze of the past five weeks. Each day with a soft round administered twice, by mouth; a bullet whose caliber is measured in milligrams. If I'm now voluntarily forgoing anti-inflammatory protection, then I will soon welcome the flames of reality.
I foresee the painful clarity of tomorrow. There will be aches. Angles will sharpen. I invite the acute for the chemically-obtuse. A fanning of flames from the resumption of alcohol consumption. There will be a bonfire of bones and ligaments, a napalm coursing from the ilium through the lumbosacral iliopectinal acetabulum anterior inferior iliac iliofemroal greater lesser trochanter to scorch through shafts, cavities, membranes and memories of functionality. Tomorrow will simmer and boil.
More than anything, I crave mythic waters to extinguish the embers; to obscure the skeletal fireworks within abysmal darkness.
~ ~
Another MRI. My third in a lifetime. Who knows what will be found.
My body is consumed by yet another member in the great species of mechanical birds. Earplugs muffle the deafening murmuration. The sounds are familiar now: a constant rapid background hiss, an earth-rumbling series of clicks and whirs and digital mastication. My mind feels at the edge of falling asleep or having a panic attack. My pain is amorphous, only gaining edges and definition upon reflection. This MRI is like stapling a long gelatinous creature to a board; a sliver of some painful tether that extends and shifts and changes by the minute. Maybe this small sample of the taper will produce evidence of origins and promise of resolutions.
I hear a muffled human voice over the speakers. The technician says that it's all over. I think. If only. The words are even more obscured than the MRI Aviary.
The gurney retracts. The technician is at my side.
"How was it? How are you," she asks.
"Easy peasy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Burning
[Listen on bandcamp]
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Burning
Believer
Took me over like a fever
Caught you hiding in the smoke, smoke, smoke
Like a meteor, I glow, glow, glow
Lay your red hand on me, baby
As I go
Into the sea, out of fire
All that burning
What you gonna do? What you gonna do?
What you gonna do when you get to the water?
Well, I'll release her
From the bindings of her teachers
What they're hiding there is broke, broke, broke
Like the River Styx, I flow, flow, flow
What you gonna do when you get to the water?
Into the sea, out of fire
All that burning
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I see the haze of the past five weeks. Each day with a soft round administered twice, by mouth; a bullet whose caliber is measured in milligrams. If I'm now voluntarily forgoing anti-inflammatory protection, then I will soon welcome the flames of reality.
I foresee the painful clarity of tomorrow. There will be aches. Angles will sharpen. I invite the acute for the chemically-obtuse. A fanning of flames from the resumption of alcohol consumption. There will be a bonfire of bones and ligaments, a napalm coursing from the ilium through the lumbosacral iliopectinal acetabulum anterior inferior iliac iliofemroal greater lesser trochanter to scorch through shafts, cavities, membranes and memories of functionality. Tomorrow will simmer and boil.
More than anything, I crave mythic waters to extinguish the embers; to obscure the skeletal fireworks within abysmal darkness.
~ ~
Another MRI. My third in a lifetime. Who knows what will be found.
My body is consumed by yet another member in the great species of mechanical birds. Earplugs muffle the deafening murmuration. The sounds are familiar now: a constant rapid background hiss, an earth-rumbling series of clicks and whirs and digital mastication. My mind feels at the edge of falling asleep or having a panic attack. My pain is amorphous, only gaining edges and definition upon reflection. This MRI is like stapling a long gelatinous creature to a board; a sliver of some painful tether that extends and shifts and changes by the minute. Maybe this small sample of the taper will produce evidence of origins and promise of resolutions.
I hear a muffled human voice over the speakers. The technician says that it's all over. I think. If only. The words are even more obscured than the MRI Aviary.
The gurney retracts. The technician is at my side.
"How was it? How are you," she asks.
"Easy peasy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Burning
[Listen on bandcamp]
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Burning
Believer
Took me over like a fever
Caught you hiding in the smoke, smoke, smoke
Like a meteor, I glow, glow, glow
Lay your red hand on me, baby
As I go
Into the sea, out of fire
All that burning
What you gonna do? What you gonna do?
What you gonna do when you get to the water?
Well, I'll release her
From the bindings of her teachers
What they're hiding there is broke, broke, broke
Like the River Styx, I flow, flow, flow
What you gonna do when you get to the water?
Into the sea, out of fire
All that burning
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~