Legal Pad Part II

Delivered Constipated.
Late, I’m Severely Constipated & Full of Laxatives.
No potty for right leg safe angles to hold and prevent after op dislocation.
Bedpans of miniature green cracked plastic.
Bed too small.
Gas and Bloated Try.
Night Then Day.
Day of Drama and Trauma.
Shitting 4 pounds at once in Bed pan & all that entails.
Doctor does visit and orders blood clot test.
Night of Terrors.
3 Fire alarms.
Legs in reductors. No crutches. One man on duty.
Couldn’t even crawl.
Spasms overtake my body.
Hydrating and finally getting some anti- spasmotic drugs.
Regaining control.
Dream of bar, family and friends.& songs of Sex.
2 AM waked.
Light, asik for oxycontin 2 2:15, 2 AM
Pain Management Doctor?
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.
Private ambitions.
Show me the Revolution!
Then I write a list of my Doctors who love me.
Doctors and nurses become my only friends.

I awake and put the urinal between my legs.
Two young tall angry girls walk in.
“Can you urinate or use the bathroom by yourself?”
“You picked the perfect time to ask.” and I produce the poorly filled urinal.
When I ask them stammering to find ne a toilet with a 4 inch riser, they say, “they”, the thing has to be ordered per need.
I need one as then I am in the rehab facility,
What! What What sort of world is this!

Back to Scanton and the happy work on the stupid movie.
The hobby story rocket worked well for lunch launch.
The Super Girl flirted with “us”.
I was for it.
My thoughts return to problems at hand.
Shitting. Goddamnit!
Subject Change:
Capitalism aids
So as to enable higher population than otherwise
likely according to natural law.
There you have the Berlin Airlift, and chickens in planes flown to the islands.

I dreamed of two actors on a summer Brooklyn roof
talking about poverty.

There you went, rolled in,
and all the TVs are contributing different channels loud like SkitsoFrenia.
I think of the starving pigs and their screams, the soundtrack for Hell.
My bone grind as I squirm in the too short bed
The infection frees me and I am back at the hospital.
Don’t go to Greenhaven if you can help it.
I won’t have to go back because I was dying there.

This entry was posted in Poems, Writing and tagged , by Russell Scott Day. Bookmark the permalink.

About Russell Scott Day

I come from sailors and priests. My aim is to prevent apocalyptic riot, better known as nuclear war, when I was growing up. Creating a nation of airports will create the peace enough environment to prevent apocalyptic riot. I had a vision due to a period of boredom and bliss like the Aleph of Borges. That is the story I learned and was made up and happens.

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