Cracked Open

There are gargoyles guarding
The hospital doors.
The wounded may come in as long as
They don’t get blood on to the floors.

So in order to visit the sick
I go where they sell their pain
I watch them plead for us
To sip their life right from the veins.

And I dimly wondered, if
Someone really should announce
‘Is there a doctor in the house?
Is there a doctor in the house!’

Kuala Lumpur

poetry | nightlife | urban | Travel poem 'Cracked Open' on the travel blog Teja on the Horizon

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