Sights of the Future

I’ve seen glimpses of my future,
(They’re not very pretty)
I see myself in a hospital bed,
With the left arm in a full cast,
And, no one else is in the room
(Are the visiting hours over?)
I look at the clock on the wall.
(It’s only two in the afternoon)
Has anybody that cares for me noticed that I’m here?
(No, I’ve only been out for a few hours, and I remember nothing.
Did he finally come out, the demon that I couldn’t exorcise?
The one who calls himself “love”?
The one that will take me all of my attention?)
I hope that no one notices that I’m gone,
But they’ll notice, and they’ll notice the markings on my good arm.
They look like I tried to kill myself (but I cannot remember doing those).
Will they then shun me, like the rest of my family?
Or will they just kill me, like the other demons have destroyed my will?
(I will probably never know)
There are no visitors, even after hours pass.
(Do they even care?)
I wake up to the sounds of voices outside my door.
I see figures thought the glass.
One comes through the door,
(Why the fuck are you here, of all people?)
Of all people, you were the least that I expected to see.
I try to talk to you, but I have no voice.
(Or can I not form the words necessary?)
You grasp my arms,
Try to hold me.
You’re crying,
I can feel the tears on my face.
The accident, as you tell me, did actually kill me,
But the paramedics were able to bring me to life with CPR after ten minutes.
(Why in of all the hells can’t I remember even a second of what happened?)
I start crying to the news, but not because of the news,
But that I cannot remember anything, nothing to even be able to alter the past.
You tell me that my legs are also in casts,
To my horror, they are.
You say something about being hit by a car, but that registers a few minutes later,
After you’ve explained it to me about a dozen times,
I cannot believe it, but the pain tells me that it must be true.
Then, mom walks in.
She tells me that dad’s surgery, which happened a week ago, went wrong.
He died during surgery.
Now, I’m the man of the house.
(If only I could move out of this damn bed)
She then tells me that I was in and out of consciousness for about two weeks.
(FUCK, that accident must have messed me up)
After I request some alone time with you,
Only then can I tell you what I’ve felt for the past weeks, (or was it months?)
I notice the sharp pains in my good arm when I hug you.
(There are numerous IV’s in me)
I violently rip them out of my flesh,
Accidentally taking some of the flesh with it,
And scream at the new pain.
The nurses rush in, removing you from my grip.
Making you go outside.
Now I’m alone again.
Why can’t I be with someone?
I tell the nurses to let you back in,
But they refuse to listen,
And they tie me to the bed,
Then they put the IV’s back into me,
Right into the same spots where I took them out.
After that, I wake up to this reality,
Where my dad’s still alive,
Where I’m alone,
Without many friends, or a lover.
Standing without casts, only to know that shortly,
That glimpse of the future will happen.