target acquired. time to destroy. time to kill. time to rend. time to end. my mind raced as i lay on steel table after table yesterday. i spent thirteen hours in the emergency room yesterday. all hail the astrolabe. all hail the barium that tastes like lemon scented dishwasher liquid. all hail the contrast medium iv's. all hail the ultrasound machines. all hail the twelve inch needles they stuck into my infected stomach to insert new tubes and drains. all hail science. gabba gabba hey.
i watched as they used 60 cc needles to remove the hematoma. the baby of blood that was growing inside my infected male womb. north by south. immaculate contraptions surround me. the fetus of darkland in a sack of infected blood. my child. aborted. thwarted. subatomically shorted. i grow fat with infected promise. unclean seed. swollen and stretched and no one is throwing me a baby shower, no one is asking me if i have chosen a name. i am surrounded by angels. and they are wearing latex gloves and speaking of me in the third person, as angels always do. and they are thinking about lunch and whats on television tonight. and they are reciting their usual prayers in monotone. this will hurt a little. you will feel a slight sting. sorry. lets numb you up some more.
and i watch the ultrasound screen. and i watch the twelve inch needles push and press to get through the mesh they placed there only three months earlier. and it wont break. and they push and the veins stick out on the forearms and necks and it wont break. and they lean their body weight into me. and it breaks. and they begin to drain the embryonic sack of dead blood. and i wait politely. as i have been taught to be. like the number i am. the carcass in the factory. the unclaimed john doe that may have been loved once. now destined for a potters field of dreams. forget them and they will come. only once, did a tear roll down my cheek in thirteen hours of metal and chemicals. and i was because i was wondering where the satellites have gone. target acquired.