the patience of waiting rooms

the patience of waiting rooms, the endless tedium of life in abeyance, sitting, fidgeting,stretching, the once mighty beast caged and unable to control anything outside these bars.and behind the bars doctors, nurses,assistants roam uncontrollably, without a thought for the trapped beings, alive but dying, waiting for the word, the tragedy the victory the next point on the map that has no roads or directions, just distances travelled and unknown destinations. outside the world heaves under a layer of impenetrable fog, the chill permeates the bones under the muscles and flesh and inside the damp heat seems to welcome every microscopic wanderer and offer a damp breezy home to meet with the legionnaires of their distant relatives. every stroke of the pen, every tale of the surgeons daring do and handy mechanical prowess impresses the crowd,the smiling distraught audience that cannot look away or be alone even for an instant in this house of pain and subjugated pleasure, the clouds of morpheus permeate the infirm and between doses the pain pulls apart the knitted wounds like shattered glass inside delicate silken sheets. no one moves except to strain another muscle no bathroom is full or cafeteria inhabited except by the janitors and linen supply and the world weeks and months every day, unending disaster looms in every waiting room and every hospital bed as television rants and howls mindlessly and broken bodies mend slow and without patience but only the methodical sameness of living.