too late at night, too tired to sleep
too scared to think clearly
the intercom beeps
they’re not calling me, so i lie still here
in the dimly-lit darkness and the stale sterile air
i smell on my hands the scent of the gloves
latex and bleach mixed with vomit and blood
i remember his face when he asked, will i die?
but i don’t remember when he started to cry
but i could see hers though i couldn’t see mine
and when it was over, i heard the clock chime
two o’clock, it said proudly. two am and all’s well
now let’s replay the past hour eighty times
this is hell.