DeadValentinesPoet

You got left on a metal table under a white sheet strung out on red and blue bottles while they tried to jump start your heart. I saw the sparks flick off your skin like the bright scorch of summer where prayers smell like burnt paper and the heat keeps you running. I saw them tape those white nodes to your head the bald skin glistening innocent and pull the switch in a room behind a curtain the hot bitch of white jolt fever blistering your thoughts singeing the palms of your hands filling the room I sit in with the impossible stench of hope.