Slowly, meticulously breathing <br />withdraws his hand with the small blade <br />a bleeder now, nipped in the bud <br />compartment syndrome is a maybe. <br />The men in green now throw their gloves <br />discard the status symbols quickly <br />into the lounge, still full of buzz <br />that lung was so far gone, sweet Jesus. <br />Malignancy plus metal jacket, hollow point. <br />Oh, comfy chairs, be pleased we're coming <br />and light my fire, kiss the camel <br />in through the mouth, out through your nostrils <br />some day the bell may toll for us, <br />but, worry not, we are the Gods, <br />there's neither destiny, nor death.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-operation/
