You count out the hours on your wrist...
tick
tock
the red line stretches to engulf your boredom
A million little eternities swirl through your head while you drown yourself in cleaner and alcohol,
purification is what you need,
so you guzzle down bleach and open your insides to the healing touch of stale air
The panic in your last moments is lost in a scramble for composure
excuses, lies, to cover up the forgotten dignity you wear so well
only against the fluorescence of hospital sheets do you realize how dirty you truly are
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