The E.R.

the white room is pulsating with a rhythmic beating.
i am sitting in a little one person bed.
moniter to the left. pulse reader on my right pointer finger
the pain has listlessly gone away, into hibernation
i sit here typing words that are trying to make sense of what everything is
outside my little curtain, there is a buzz of commotion.
i can hear folders being dropped on counters, doctors and nurses hurrying around like bees in a hive
yet in my little quarter of this place it is peaceful but anxious
The scent of the room is tainted with plastic and this clean, white smell

the last time i was in the hospital was with my grandpa. During one of the last couple days he had. I actually couldnt take seeing him hooked up to the moniters, so i ran outside and cried. It was so sad, to see him so helpless. He wanted to leave, but they couldnt let him out. He was confused. But he still had the same smile. The smile he gave me when he tried to take chocolate from me during the countless halloweens and birthdays and celebrations we had. The day when i ran out of the hospital was the last day i saw him. I wished that i hadnt seen him like that. Distraught and pain-stricked. I wish that i had spent more time with him when i was younger.
But i cant constantly think like that. I know his spirit is still here: either in the stars or just hanging around.