The Grim Reaper

Taking the direct route to somebody's breathing apparatus,
Heaving breath, almost too close to heaven's hem,
Eyes beginning to dilate, expression wondering in all directions.

Gradually all the body organs are starting to close down,
Raising the blood pressure even one percent is taxing,
Invisible beings starting to gather around the fragile human being,
Must he go now when he has a full diary?

Rush the business man to the Emergency unit immediately,
Eleven medics fight a life and death battle to save Mr Ploughwright,
this obese manager,
Arteries are blocked, too much fat around the Aaorta,
Pumps and drips are installed with impressive speed,
Everybody watching his heart-beat going up then down, down,
down to a single line,
Ruddy face turning white, then a deathly grey, medics pump in more antibiotics before the final signal from the chief surgeon,
"There is nothing we can do now, he's gone¦¦.."