That flash of white light,
that’s your brain unrestrained
hitting you're skull.
Messages sparking incoherently,
unable to connect they simply arc,
and that’s the last thing you’ll see
before you wake up with bits of you gone.
Left behind on another landmass.
No consent asked and none given,
you’ll lie under a metal frame
where crisp white sheets won't touch your missing limbs.
You’ll want to tear at invisible flesh,
but it will be in the bellies of dogs.
And people you know will weep by your bedside,
and not knowing what to say, they may smile inanely.
You might scream but no sound will emit.
No one will love you more for all this,
some might love you less.
But then again there will be less of you to love.