Clinic

Porcelain fleur-de-lys
Blemish
blue splash archway
of routinized indignity.

Quaking
In
The
Wraith.

Plastic paneled
Calcified,
Barnacled
Inertia
Mocks the scribbled
Pathos of my pain-soaked
Particulars
as
Drops of spit foam
Fleck the shoreline
Of cheap orange lips

With every quavered
Signature
On ream upon ream
Of aborted humanity.

"He will see you now."

White walls, white floors
Dilate
Paper coated nudities
Billowing
In gunmetal gusts
of neglect.
Each script, a phial
Of portioned potent
suppliant
insignificance

Yet to come.