Going, Going, Gone

The Out of Control, Out of Present, Out of Body Phenomena:  Anesthesia
Count backwards from ten, he whispers.
Suddenly, everything’s a blur.
I can breathe, I can feel the sensors,
yet I’m incapable of worry.
The ensuing fog is quick;
I can’t make it to one.
My thoughts are thick;
floating, floating, gone.
                                             -p.o.martig