Contrast

The artificial sooth of Dilaudid coats my mind in feelings of warmth and whisper and diversions; enough to carry away, for a little while, my intestines and left leg. And though giving in to these worrisome and addict-able cures of discomfort bring out the red flags, I will thank God for their invention. And then here I wait. In a moment the orders will be given and I will drink the milkshake understood as a contrast. Afterwards I will be placed in another picture-taking machine through which we will see what picture the contrast has painted; the path every meal follows and the curves both narrow and wide; and the obstructions sure to be uncovered.
The sunlight is shinning through for a moment here, only, on this place of the sick. I penciled this into a notebook, in an x-ray room, during an eight and a half hour follow-through (that means they followed the glowing liquid from my stomach all the way down to the place where you clench for roller coaster rides), (all that time and that's minus my Colon), February 16, 2009.