I was given twenty minutes to die. I had
no idea what to do. All around me, life
moved at a crawl, while within the chambers
of my body, nerves fired faster than I could
dodge. My head throbbed with frantic
starving bees; I was keen to chew every
calorie of flesh the world over. Swallow,
I insisted, but my throat became an
ancient gully and blood was welling
everywhere—to come so near death is to
approach the event horizon, where light
consumes itself, and mystery gobbles
fear. What of those invincible hours in bed,
writing odes to nature? Hurry, hurry, as though
a train were leaving the station. People rushing
about like a flock of pigeons scared away
by a gunshot. Bang. The alarm sounds;
such a privilege to have regrets…