A Lifetime in 32 Minutes.

He didn’t look well, far from it.
Once olive skin rebelled to 
a strong, custard hue.
Repulsed yet upset at 
what he had become.
Enough machines to launch
a rocket,
Beeped and wheezed,
Helped him breathe.
Part man, part machine,
A spaghetti of tubes gave life
and pain relief.
I couldn’t look at him.
Instead, the clock above the
the nurse’s desk was a reminder 
of my perdition.
I’d been in Hell for 32 minutes,
But Time ticked through glue;
In places like these it
seemed much, much longer,
A black hole of suffering.
And i’d stay until the end
like I always did, thinking,
Blinking, not thinking.
Finally time-up,
I’d kiss his forehead.
Wishing a forever sleep
and not looking back,
I’d leave.