6 Liters of Oxygen per Minute with Morphine Drip

Gasping for one last brea. Brilliant white points of light.

Is it you? You were not what I expected. You? Not a luminous floating angel with velveteen wings,

Descending from heaven as stiff as a Catholic catechism, Not glowing white righteousness too painful to gaze upon, Filled with donts, while simpering in virtue A priestly feigned piety. But you, my benefactor seemed Ageless, timid and kind, Smiling mischievously with your clear blue eyes. Your long hair falls in your boyish face. With gentle hands you caress my burning cheeks You descended soft as a hummingbird, Enveloping me in a holy mist. I was the burning flame of sin that reached up to you, Begging for mercy, Dirty in my wretchedness you came to me. And in an explosion of white grace, We became one. Did my sinful nature scorch your wings that time when you Touched my cheeks sending pulsing visions of forgiveness through my soul? And then, while slipping off the cracker of this world, I drank your sweet sacrament of love and slept. In Gods grace as We fell into the sky forever.