Formaldehyde shields so perfectly the pungency of the scent of death
I don't how how one can get used to it
So used to it that one can detach from a person being real
Slicing brains and hearts like slicing bread with a thick butcher's knife
Entering the room, looking around, eyes wide
like I walked in onto the set of a horror film
featuring corrupt doctors harvesting black market organs
for a quick buck
They may not be corrupt,
but they are desensitized.
Do I blame them,
having to chop up bodies everyday?
Using a bone saw like a dentist with his drill
Going back to make sure the ribs can pop off easily enough
like one looking to clean out a cavity.
They don't have to care about the brain and it's integrity when
they have to get through a half inch thick skull
They get bored when they only have 8 autopsies in a day
Bring on 20
it is as meanial to them as shelving books.
Images revisit my brain on the long drive home
of pools of blood
those left inside the body cavity
duodenal fluid leaking into the cavity
mixing with the blood
curdling
I move, can't see this
I hate running the bowel......
