Scattered Showers
Awaken on an operating table.
What luck.
They promised deep sleep.
They promised no pain.
A sweet and druggy haze fosters malaise.
The afternoons are gray so we retire deep into our caves.
Warmth is passed back between bodies and fire.
Flames are stoked by articles of clothes sacrificed to the pyre.
Until the storm has passed.
Until the showers cease.
What luck.
Awaken in recovery.
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