comfortably numb

The solitude is comforting, languished his fevered head, Only moments more to go.

Waiting years for that moment of delectable release, his brow was tensely pinched in anticipation.

Sweet, sweet senility, wash away these memories that make me want to cry.
Sweet, sweet senility, wash away these memories that make me want to die.

Compulsively cleaned, his arm, pasty and threadbare, a slight crunchy, transparent parchment replacing his manly, sinewy youth, thrust out as Christ at Calvary before falling just as suddenly to his sides.

The footsteps were getting closer.

Ahhh. It's finally time.

With slow deliberation, he limply slung his left arm on the counter and pushed the needle deep inside, snagging for a moment before sliding into a willing vein.

"AAAAAHHHhhhh........"

He could hear the knocking on his door trail off as thick, Vermont maple slid across his warm pancakes as a boy.

sweet release...sweet........senility.....