Double Prognosis

The self,
What does it hate - the self.
If within or without
the human machine, none can say.

The ultimate aim is
perception of self - perception
of self comes
in three distinct flavours:
conscience,
consciousness,
the curious sensation akin to bitterness at the corner of a tired, teary eye a few minutes before waking up to an array of industrial sunlight affectionately cursing your sickly forehead.

I heard you were writhing
and thrashing around, like
the decapitated vermin does, in
soaked sheets a few nights
ago – left a fingernail on the
stainless steel rail as the nurse,
circumspect, took hold of
your breast – so, why not
show me the same regard?

We are there for each other.
A new shiny cross on my back,
fresh breeze down your throat.