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seanflagstaffPoems
Twenty classless, eight cigarettes.  Fighting over the radio at the  Inpatient Mental Health Facility,  A broken sense of belonging,  And a dearth of veggie burgers.  Listless with his lists, of course.  Angst from the Anglophile, unable to  Put a stopper in the pouring,  Bleeding emotions.  Open hands  Stained red, and brown.  Three breaks a day, scarring his  Broken knuckles, they paint the walls.  Code Smoking Gun,  Code Smoking Green,  Manic man, loading his shoulders with his  Father’s burden, too big for Atlas’s arms,  Or his mother’s shunning palms.  Three breaks a day,  Knee, shoulder, hip.  The coffee’s decaf  But your calves? Well,  They’re just sore.  They dish the brick every  Other evening. But living, for  No light, only serves to lessen your  Love of life and make you  Light-headed. Broken beds with rock-solid Pillows. Three breaks a day to Remind you of your regression. We Want you here as much. Why’re you whining? Busy doctors bust the doors, thank  God for the freedom, the  Fluorescent finish to your odyssey. The  Flowers and grass greet you in  Shades of pink and green your  Greedy eyes hadn’t seen.  Exhale. Ghost out your grieving.
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Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
Fighting Over the Radio at Westwood Lodge
Twenty classless, eight cigarettes.  Fighting over the radio at the  Inpatient Mental Health Facility,  A broken sense of belonging,  And a dearth of veggie burgers.  Listless with his lists, of course.  Angst from the Anglophile, unable to  Put a stopper in the pouring,  Bleeding emotions.  Open hands  Stained red, and brown.  Three breaks a day, scarring his  Broken knuckles, they paint the walls.  Code Smoking Gun,  Code Smoking Green,  Manic man, loading his shoulders with his  Father’s burden, too big for Atlas’s arms,  Or his mother’s shunning palms.  Three breaks a day,  Knee, shoulder, hip.  The coffee’s decaf  But your calves? Well,  They’re just sore.  They dish the brick every  Other evening. But living, for  No light, only serves to lessen your  Love of life and make you  Light-headed. Broken beds with rock-solid Pillows. Three breaks a day to Remind you of your regression. We Want you here as much. Why’re you whining? Busy doctors bust the doors, thank  God for the freedom, the  Fluorescent finish to your odyssey. The  Flowers and grass greet you in  Shades of pink and green your  Greedy eyes hadn’t seen.  Exhale. Ghost out your grieving.
Spent a bit of time "healing" in a "hospital."
#drugs#mental#health#marijuana#hospital#inpatient#sanctioned
seanflagstaff
Written by
seanflagstaff
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
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