Analysis of clinic



taking my pulse
a brush across your breast
can you feel me increase?
I like you with your hair down best
your method so clinical and cold
your stethoscope
your image to uphold
still i can smell your pheromone
our treatment will be sexual

tighten the tourniquet
and suck out my blood supply
if I'm not your type today
tomorrow we'll reapply
the ointment and antibiotic
the opioids and the anti-psychotics

chained to the gurney
you bring me my breakfast
I bet you think little of me
on your checklist
suggested suicide watch
confiscate my lover
put me in the rubber room
until I'm not a threat
to myself or others

I don't want to recover
or be rescued
discharge me
so I can get back to the test tube experiments
with drugs and a history of abuse
I've got a fix - the leak is a vortex, a vacuum
cut me a key to the nuthouse
and set me loose

weekend pass-out relapsed
and relaxin' on the *ss*s' crack
and the crankshaft of the Kraken
I'm killin' my self not really my body.
I want erased and eroded,
panic flushed down the pity potty.

air inject me
poison I.V.
I want your face to be
the last thing I see before lights out
you strap me down for bedtime
stories above the parking garage
I'll paint you a gory collage
on the pavement,
the impact I have
on the public
sidewalk
sidestep my carcass
and trace me in chalk


Scheme ABXBCXCDX XEXEFA GXGXXHIXX HXGXJIAJ XXDGXG GKGXXLLXKFXXX
Poetic Form
Metre 1011 010111 111101 11111111 110110001 110 110101 1111110 101011100 100000 0111101 1111101 01100 01000010 0100101 11010 111110 11111011 111 010101 10110 1100101 011101 11110 1111010 1110 011 1111110110100 1100100101 1101011010010 1101101 0111 11101 0110111 001101 11011110110 11010010 101101010 1011 101 111111 011110111 111111 100101001 11101001 1010 00111 1010 1 1110 01101
Closest metre Iambic trimeter
Characters 1,261
Words 251
Sentences 6
Stanzas 6
Stanza Lengths 9, 6, 9, 8, 6, 13
Lines Amount 51
Letters per line (avg) 20
Words per line (avg) 5
Letters per stanza (avg) 173
Words per stanza (avg) 42
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Submitted on October 15, 2013

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:17 min read
9

Wesley Morin

I was borne in the soul of misery and I never had me a name... they just gave me a number when I was young... ***BANNED IN A HUNDRED THOUSAND COUNTRIES*** more…

All Wesley Morin poems | Wesley Morin Books

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