owed it to myself.
[clinic		]
the clipboard pulses
warm white
as it registers her fingerprint,
pulls up her details:
	ssn, home address
	criminal record
driver’s license
medical history
and those of her parents.

“All signed in. Perfect.”

the receptionist smiles as she leads
her through a long white hall
where posters hanging
reference deep sleep and waking
painlessness and healing.
for all the talk of Morpheus,
she cannot escape the feeling
that she is the Eurydice to this Orpheus

[      arrowhead]
i met you in your final moments
it was in my nature to want 
to want		 to join our spirits
	lapping from the brook
	looking to instinct
not heeding the warning you were given

the snapping happened twice

roses bloomed		from your wound,
		a favor i whispered to your heart
in passing,
and a ring of nightshade formed around 
		your corpse to return us together 
					to essence

[     oneiromancer ]
four winks, each weighing more than the last, signal that the anesthetic has spread a heavy blanket on her nervous system. the procedure is non-invasive, but it takes its toll.
all this trauma like cancer drinking from the font of Spirit. evil does not reside in the folds of the frontal lobe, nor does it grow like lichens or mold. it’s debt: it’s the expenses of taxing living, it’s owed.
a floating arm passes a white headband over the surface of the patient’s skull, scanning it and allowing for a render to be projected in three-dimensional space over a display panel to her side. this is where the surgeon will operate, working to “clean” the damages indicated by the paperwork filed.
offer your stress as tithe to the teething cannibal Abimelech, less delicate in taste than a pound of flesh but it sates him all the same. the difference lies in the name.
the render shows these areas as red spots on the surface of the brain. zooming in allows the surgeon intimate access to the individual as the damage is now brazenly visualized; however, the source, a specific memory, must be coaxed from among many. this can only be done by sifting through the affected zone until it rises to the surface. the surgeon lives the experience parallel to the patient, who must confront the damage for what is, hopefully and the aim of the procedure, the last time. the stronger the feelings associated with the memory, the faster it rises.
place thle-pela-kano underneath your pillow and reap mercy like produce. thank these bitter leaves of god because even in the kingdom of the Psithyrus regicide is the state.
on average, the operation takes anywhere between eighteen and twenty-four hours to complete. surgeons in this field work alone, as they must maintain synchronicity with their patient. the repurposed memories must bear a consistent signature to fully adhere to the engram they were removed from. any multiplicity causes doubt in the implanted memory and, consequently, rejection. because of the duration and emotional duress of the procedure, patients are recommended to drink only water the day before and are hooked up to IVs and catheters during. the procedure is commonly known as “Catharsis.”
[alles neu] i feel fine i feel finite “i watched a snail crawl across the edge of a straight razor. [...] slithering [...] surviving.” every night i dream of nothing and i feel fine