Over 16,525,752 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
Bedside Manners
Enter via conveyor belts
disguised as stretchers.
Hmmm, stretchers.
No relation to the rack, I hope.
Another slab of meat
looking to avoid the freezer.
Convinced zombie-like qualities
are prerequisites to work
at this noxious factory.
Antiseptic fumes attempt to
mask the actual lack of hygiene.
Same as spraying perfume
when you are out of Lysol.
Various contraptions are your
constant companions that are
often more animated than some
of the walking corpses passing
for nurses, attendants and doctors.
Their affinity for humanity
flat lined long ago.
Your attempts to reclaim
your rightful place in the human race
are just pitiful pleas having all
the resonance of those blasted
machines, not needing recalls
half as much as the staff does.
Fall not into distress for those
exceptions will remind you
why you want your heart to
continue its rhythmic dance.
They will touch you with warmth,
compassion and dedication.
The perception of these precious few
is not working in a factory
processing living tissue.
They honor their desire to heal,
their manners always at your bedside.
