seizure

when the room rushed a river exploded, when once the eddies broke
their slick wet concrete chunks blown far and wide, and then we choked;
an ill-met gaze, petrified, finds us wide awake.

a harrowing silence collapses the room to a point
between his eyes,
the faucet gushes hysterically,
the television cries;
muttering, trembling without a grasp
shuffling through some loony tunes,
but silence reigns throughout the room,
clock hands refuse to make their pass.

his gaze dim lit reverberates
an echoing laugh still parades and jeers:
night black pupils, Scythe and Hood,
a deathly glare, and there we stood.
when his mouth from out it spouts
bits of dinner and
in goes my sister's fingers
desperate,
he sinks forward like a child's old balloon, yet
all at once; a frightful rush
of plum red face and madness.

and soon the shudders, his rigid shell,
the house lights dim, the music ends
for the departure of a dear old friend.

our screams and incessant pleas tear his
hair and pick his skin
out from under our fingernails;
his teeth bared and bloodshot eyes brazen,
his arms brushing us aside,
raving like mad, baring his gums,
bursting our lungs with frantic circles,
a windmill tilts,
frustrating hapless attempts to help.

when he dies, the screams
degenerate into muffled cries,
sopping bare and clawing at our eyes
those cleansing tears trapped
beneath the fabric of our faces;

and then a cough says he's alive.

reliving, relieved, and somewhat revived
under grateful glances from tired old eyes,
half-hearted attempts to laugh past
errant hairs and awkward pauses.