velvetmedia

hospital blue cotton suit,

feeling ready for this,

table lain

resting arms head in clamp

mask screwed over

field of vision diminished,

at your request music playing

to drown out whatever,

automated table draws you in,

it starts with

magnetic thrum

waves of sound

that offer no comfort,

gets louder and louder,

expecting a rip in time

so the brain they are photographing

can see and be part of

the history that creates our soul,

abstract thoughts show as synaptic

fire,

ghost shadows of words

not spoken or written,

time almost at a standstill

louder it gets,

in this tube white walled

a medical torpedo

to be discharged,

behind a screen

they where looking and seeing

not a face and flesh

but it’s transparency

bone and internal softness

compacted to fit,

it is done

once done glad of silence,

you wait these days for a sign

and sat with doctor…

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