Last night, perspiring, filled with fear,
I awoke to the evanescence of a dream.
There was a doctor, and a diagnosis,
And then a thousand needles penetrating me at once.
"You're cured!" I heard the doctor say
As the poison burned my blood.
Then, awake, I searched for the sound of my pulse.
For a moment, it was absent,
But my breathing was heavy
If not somewhat alien.
I was not myself--somehow more alive,
Yet filled with the presence of death.
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