The Smiling Dealer
He grins with the edge of a scalpel,
clinical brightness washed in hospital light,
Selling quiet removal with Medicaid ink,
dispensing dusk in the broadest daylight.Every bottle clicks shut
with the confidence of ritual, the assurance of masked care,
His eyes blank as invoices, the comfort scripted,
the empathy rare.He inquires about pain in a softened voice,
translating misery into code,
Increases the dosage, doubles the hope,
then lets the suffering erode.No touch lingers past the clipboard,
every signature traded for trust,
Isolation bottled, compliance prescribed, the body dissolving to dust.
They call it healing, but there’s no sound left to scream—Just morphine dreams
and static routines,
Each patient’s name disappears beneath printer’s drone,
Profits rise as souls are overthrown.The phone never rings to ask
if despair has grown,
His memory skips every story he’s known.Pills replace answers, follow-up lost,
Suffering measured in tablets, recovery’s cost.
Every plea for help is streamlined to waste,
A system’s discard, hope laid to waste.Another casualty coded,
another life erased,
All records in order, every quota embraced.Take the medicine,
trust the lie—Swallow each promise,
prepare to die.Clinical white camouflages rot,
Symptoms erased while suffering is not.The patient recedes into digital debt,
A number, a barcode, a balance unmet.
This is not mercy, it’s sanitized rule,
Death is dispensed in clinical cool.His lab coat covers what justice won’t,
You signed the consent for the care you don’t.Erasure is managed,
the verdict routine,
Truth is filtered, the end kept clean.
The Smiling Dealer (Redux) never mourns the result,
His hands never shake as he hands out the cult.No sorrow for those
who fail to wake,
Only a pill, only a break.Each refill, each silence is profit renewed,
A system in white, a casket construed.The transaction is final,
the harm concealed—Approval signed for what never healed.