Monday, August 04, 2008

prostitution

this ordeal, writ in blood.
ruby red, mortal cusp.
to and fro, back and forth.
wondering why the body has so much to be milked.
so vile, so simple.
mental torture spanning centuries.
dances and flows like a red river.
a storm under the red sky
brewing in the proverbial tea cup
that has since morphed into a tube.
prostitution of blood,
fear a price to pay for security and income.
at what cost?

---------------------

went for medical checkup today.
survived.
still am living, still am breathing.
didn't faint or anything.
just turned random shades of white and green.
you have the basic stuff:
urine test, height and weight, eyesight, colour blindness, physical exam, blood pressure, chest xray. and then of course there's the blood test...
and hearing a male nurse utter the words "menses" with a quiver of embarrassment is quite hilarious. -_-
(think i ought to explain this point of reference. because it is procedural that during the xray you are certified not pregnant and you have to state last menses date. nothing relating to the urine test. yucks i won't go if i have =x)

but the blood test! D:

it's like the inevitable is coming at you.
just a simple thing, meaningless to many.
is such a significant and treacherous colossal conquest of my own fear and mental pain.
not so much the needle did any damage to my skin.
more like the proverbial needle, the fictitious feeling.
the phantom crawling of the needle's roots under my skin.
of my imaginary twisted veins crying out.
the crook of my arm with the plaster a battlescar and the hero of the day.
honestly, piercing my ears hurt more.
but the feelings accompanied - the psychological terror.
my sweaty palms, my racing heart, and the cold sweat that followed after.
my 25% near fainting spell, the speckles clouding my vision, the coldness that gripped my head.
the shakiness of my gait, those awful feelings of perhaps, akin to some when they see gore on television or for guys, watch Hard Candy at certain scenes, or hear nails screech across a chalkboard, or perhaps, glass. maybe it's the feeling when your teeth grind or the horrible feeling when attacked by Styrofoam, i dunno. we all are entitled to our fears, but they all lead to one matter, and that is the psychological consequence of literal hair standing, skin crawling sensations.

the feeling of being exposed.
when you are in a room with the doctor and the needle.
and everything melts away and it's just you. and the needle. and your fear.
mostly your fear.
looking away, hearing the doctor's words vanishing into the distance.
looking at fear as if to infinity - the vanishing point unseen.
just waiting and waiting for it to be over.
cold surgical steel in your skin.
embedded, like the thorn stuck in your side those past few days,
when the mere thought of going for the checkup sent a lump to your throat.
the literal thorn, drawing blood. like from robin red breast it flowed.
a dark crystalline kind of deep red.

horrible beauty.

and the tourniquet applied on my upper arm.
my fist applied, losing strength and growing weaker with every moment.
slowly losing strength; sapped by the removal of my life's liquid.
and the stars whizzed past my head like grey dots in my peripheral vision.
while the moon sang to me a song without words.

do i overreact?
but i did feel faint and 25% blacked out.

too much excitement for the day;
not to mention heated things back in the office - literally.
perhaps you may have seen the news at 630pm.

in a daze, in a haze.
my alien lenses cracked,
showing a distorted world.
jagged needles,
stolen pearls.
ruby red, ruby red.
cried the girl.
...and dith babbled on at the insane hour of 10:59:00 PM