& I wonder what they're scanning for,

the grey shadows of my mind projected into pictures,

yet not.

I wait in the small, green room
it's plastic chairs and **** stained floor,

they hand me two pills, one pink like an *****, an ***** failure,

one white like the sheet they wrap around me, turning me into a ghost,

yet not.

They'll write my name on a chart, an ink stain that will never wash off

a tick box. Did you swallow? Are they hiding under your tongue?

dissolving into a metal taste that burns

like the sun

yet not.

I will get walks on Tuesday's, twenty minutes of grass and air

that I will drink, my thirst unquenchable

I'll get in line, shuffle in baggy clothes, watch television with a glassy stare,

eyes white and wide, a girl trapped inside (almost)

yet not.