In the articulate asylum of my accredited antiquity
Cold are the hands that help me hobble to my hole
Starring through the window of my soul
I can see the light at the end of the hall
With a tube of lipstick in my hand,
Left behind by the counselor who spoke
Trying to talk me off of the ledge
She thinks I am standing on in my head
I only stand on the bed and scribble these notes
Upon the wall:

Small is the mind of the one who found my life
Strapped in stray jackets, juiced by drugs
With needles reading my veins like
Pre-downloaded palm pilots
And the pills are the physician’s way of
Telling me to pray, because I am in here
Awaiting the second-coming
Of the certified nurses assistant
Who seems to have a fetish for
Feeding me bullshit and applesauce
Because God rang, and I was the one
Brave enough to answer his call

White coats surround me
Like Bright white lights after a tragic accident
Stars from a bump on the head, when you fall
Feeling the effects of the snake charmers medicine
My medicated legs unable to walk
So, naturally it just feels better if I crawl
Like a worm from a bird
Who heard me early enough
In a rush for work, planning his breakfast
Around the fact that, I will ride the bus
But the floor is quite cool to the sensitive touch
Plus, the thought of the ice water
That supported me, made the bird think
“I might not need to eat that much!”

They sit me in front of a cubicle plate
Not knowing that I already ate
The tube of lipstick about a half hour ago
Promising me that later
I will be able to attend the picture show
Where they will script scenes from pages,
Straight out of a holocaust victims dream
Using mop handles and bad intentions
Like gas chambers locked behind oven doors
And the third Reich, is the equivalent team
To the workers, that decides to go on strike?
Fighting for a proper share of their slice of the pie
When last night I was governed by a teen
Who thought it was funny to get me high
Using a single can of whipped cream

I want to go home, somewhere familiar of a happy place
I want to roam and let sunshine wash over my face
And I promise not to let God talk to me anymore
Making sincere pleas to a counselor in need
Of some necessary necessity, trying to help me
So I am cured, eventually I am freed
To walk again like me, that part that couldn’t be seized
Desired like streetcars; those that are always parked
Conveniently when you clearly see your way
But it’s still too far for your feet
Finding a resilient part of myself in these shoes
Showing the blind that I am cool
When I pass them today
The current means, which to them
Goes unseen, so even with one eye
In his world I am king
I put glasses upon his face
I sit down next to him and I say
“I will describe the area, if you envision the place
Pretend you can see the things
That you can’t see in your dreams”
He starts Laughing at me, hysterically yelling
“Yes, yes… I can see it too!”

People are walking by wondering
Who it is, I am talking to
Telling you secrets kept in halls of hospitals
Born of the loins of the pressed and the pitiful
Painfully recognized, but still lived untold
I shake uncontrollably, feeling that cold
Rising from the floor of my dungeon
Damming my soul
To scrape the bottom of those shoes
That is firmly being worn by hate
I say no way to ever going back there
And when that nurse goes into my empty room
To recycle my bed, my sheets and my chair
He will stare at the wall
Seeing what I had to say
I left it prepared for him there
And it read,
“I talked to God last night
And he told me
I would be getting out
Today!”