by Ian Li
I’m ready to have my emotions taken away.
The cold needle at the base of my neck
sends a pleasant chill down my spine.
I’m unsure if it’s my anxiety draining away,
or just the feel of condensation along the tube
carrying the distilled essence of my feelings.
I try not to think of the rich and elite
chasing the high of experimental drugs,
taking the most precious thing inside me.
Perhaps they’ll taste of my compassion,
but I know that’s not what they’re seeking.
Instead, I think of the joys to be bought
with the wealth I’m about to gain,
enough to buy food enhanced with spices,
enough to buy hours outdoors in the breeze.
Yet I can’t feel the happiness I should.
I briefly feel the rage bubbling up,
at what they’ve ripped from me.
I’m about to tear off the needle,
to give them a piece of my mind,
until that feeling fades away too.
Ian Li left his career as an economist and consultant, and he now dabbles in writing sci-fi, developing games, and designing websites in his hometown, Toronto.