Waking up to the window leaking life back into the cell
mixing with the white walls and echoing clock
and the dents in the door knobs.
I know I'm leaving today.
I don't take my medicine today.
I'm not going to be sleepy today.
Outside the creaky locked door I find nothing new
except faces I'll never see again and won't get to know,
Impatiently waiting for the call, for the call, for the call
when they'll let me out of this place.
Time ticks like a creaky fan on a summer afternoon,
Finally, out. Eight days gone and only my hair is longer.
On the floor the scent of coffee mixes with my perfume
and the musty smell of old books.
Here too early we welcomed ourselves in anyway
and she let us stay inside for a while.
I find myself a new thing to wear, here and there.
Happier now and content with myself
and rediscovering everything;
and I'm surprised to find everything where I left it.
Not just the clockwork of my room
but the architecture of the dining room as well.
The dresses are hung where they were before;
the tables haven't walked away.
With my name around my wrist I explore the nooks and crannies
and find no new spiders there.
But my eyes are different and the air more autumnal
than ever were before I went away.
The world isn't so dark and
maybe that's okay.