i just woke up dead 

The nurse introduces herself and offers a seat. A fist is clenched trying to work up a good vein. She is irrelevant. As she ties a tourniquet around the right bicep the vein balloons. Visceral rates skyrocket. She dabs a cotton ball in sanitizing solution and swabs a rusty colored bullseye. Swallowing is difficult. Feet are crossed and twitching. Breath is held. Teeth grind. Cracked lips are bitten. Each fiber in every muscle is tense.

Following the nurse’s hands while she prepares the needle as tiny beads of sweat form, salivating, the body coils up, aching to burst. She turns in slow motion. The point of the needle blings as it drifts across the room, fluttering down, clean and pure.

Without breaking stride, the tip glides beneath the skin, hesitating for a moment before popping the vein. Blood gushes into the vial, warmth flowing through a cold existence. It washes over every cell. Nothing moves. No blinking. No breathing. No existence. Just bliss.

Long, slow exhaling accompanies the vial change. As blood pulsates the euphoria continues, each vial sucking up fluid as the needle snuggles inside a cozy, tight, wet lover. Diane pushes it in further, slides it around as the last drops are swallowed up, keeping it inside while that moment of peace warms everything inside.

When fluid transfer is complete she pops the last tube and lets the needle rest, falling aside while still penetrating. The seduction of an intravenous affair returns. Unwavering romance that had been forgotten but was never gotten over. Erotic and intense, cold and selfish. There is no emotional goodbye, no cuddling until morning. Diane rips it out, wipes up the mess, slaps on a bandage.

You can loosen your fist now...