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Sparrow Mar 3
Time is stagnant
I have tried
pushing all the buttons

It hasn't changed
for all my efforts -
this period tiresome

Gray skies
Not a drop of rain
Not a hint of the sun

This life is
too overwhelming
I'm ready for the next one
Exploring the psyche of a mind diseased by depression.
The individual thinks he/she is inside a video game that isn't playing out to their liking and he/she wants it to end and retry with a spare "life"
Terry Collett May 2018
Yiska ran her finger
down the windowpane.

Outside snow drifted
in large flakes.

She lit a cigarette
and blew smoke
at the pane.

I moved beside her
and watched
the falling snow.

"I want to be out there
not stuck in here
in this madhouse"
she said.

She took my hand in hers
and squeezed it.

"You are the only
element of sanity
in this hole"
she added.

"We are both stuck here
with other broken minds"
I said.

She squeezed
my hand tighter.

A plump nurse
walked past
behind us
like a young hippo.

I saw her reflection
in the windowpane.

"Remember that night
in the ECT room ?"
she said.

"Yes and the night nurse
found you
while I hid under
the recovery bed."

She smiled.

The hippo nurse
came up to us
and said
"Have you had
your medication
yet Yiska?"

Yiska turned
to face the nurse.

"Yes the skinny nurse
gave it to me"
Yiska said.

The nurse walked away
up the locked ward.

"Did she?"
I said.

"She did
but I threw them
down the toilet"
she said
and released
my hand.

I lit a cigarette
and stared out
at the snow
and our promised land.
Terry Collett Apr 2018
The Scottish woman
moaned about the medication
being late and the Asian woman
rocked back and forth
on the armchair
with a bone looking grip
looped in her hair.

You were standing with me
by the large window
gazing out
at the trees and fields
covered in snow.

You touched my hand
with yours
and I sensed
the roughness
of the bandage
around your wrist
where you had cut it
and few days before
and the tubby nurse
found you
sitting on the floor
watching the blood
flow out
and the nurse
screamed at you
something she wasn't
meant to do.

"Wish I was out there"
you said
"lying there
like some lone soldier
deep in snow
waiting for death
and what a way to go."
Terry Collett Apr 2018
She stood by the window
looking out
at the snow
it was falling
in slow large flakes.

He was on the sofa smoking
studying her figure.

A nurse rushed past
arms holding towels.

The radio was on
playing a Beatles' song.

Her wrist stung
where the stitches
pulled against skin.

The Scottish woman
was moaning
about the weather.

Another nurse walked past
eyeing him sitting there smoking
with his intense stare.

The Indian woman
walked to a fro
across the ward
muttering either
curse or prayer.

He walked over
to the window
where she stood
watching the snow
falling slow

Their hands touched.
Skin on skin.

Her bandaged wrist
touched his bandaged wrist.

They studied the snow
but didn't kiss.
Terry Collett Mar 2018
He tried to hang himself
in the toilets
on the locked ward.

She heard and saw
the nurses rushing to a fro
like headless chickens.

She sat on the sofa
smoking.

She'd spoken to him
that morning
before breakfast.

They had watched
the snow falling.

The quacks
won't be pleased.

He'll be watched
more carefully
after that.

She'd not tried that:
hanging wasn't her thing.

Slit wrists or overdose
was more in her line.

The Indian woman
sat over the way
rocking back and forth.

All sorts.

Nurses passed by;
the plump nurse
like a young hippo
rushed past.

She'd talk to him
once he was about again.

The snow had stopped.
Now she supposed
would come the rain.
Terry Collett Sep 2017
The nurses half walked
half dragged the screaming woman
along the passageway
of the locked ward.

He watched them,
a cacophony of screams
and shouts and banging
of doors,  then silence;
that was more disturbing
that silence, and picturing
the patient on the bed
strapped down,
the rubber mouth piece
between teeth, the injection
to oblivion,  the electrodes
applied each side of the skull,
the electric shock applied,
the body in motion
as the current rides.

He knows the score
he's been there before,
knows the strapping down,
the rubber piece between teeth,
the injection and the buzz
along the nerves, *******
consciousness out of each pore
and momentarily it seems
you are no more.
Ect in a locked ward
Terry Collett May 2017
Early dawn light
seeped into the lounge
of the locked ward.

Benny was sitting there
in a chair
smoking.

I entered
and sat beside him.

Morning Yiska
he said
releasing a flow
of smoke
cigarette?

I nodded
and he lit it for me.

The night nurse
was in her
small office
writing her report.

How'd you sleep?
I asked.

Not good
he said
can't get thoughts
out of my head.

Me neither
I said.

We sat in silence
for awhile.

Sunlight
grew brighter
lighting up
the lounge.

I like this
first morning peace
he said
before the others wake
and come.

Just us
I said.

He turned
and looked at me.

I moved
close to him
and kissed
soft kiss
lips on lips
then parted
sat in a stillness.

I wanted you
last night
I said
lying in bed alone
the other women
snoring or whispering
in their sleep.

I would have come
if I could
if there was a place
for us to be
he said.

The night nurse came
and looked in
the lounge
early birds
she said
after a worm?
she joked.

You could say that
I said
thinking of Benny
wanting him
to make love to me
in my bed.
PATIENTS IN A PSYCHAITRIC WARD IN 1971
James Cumberland Feb 2017
"We are the witnesses to how alike all men bleed."*
Man our easel, we stretch clean canvas over scarlet brushstrokes,
We work stitchings like guitar strings,
find a melody in the mending,
hide scars like bass, in clean skin,
and hide the pain from each ending.
Their lungs sing.

An alto for death's row,
its sound makes your heart slow.
Let's see what you have inside,
with open eyes, your mother cried,
in toupe-walled rooms, we cut the cord,
no savage mark by a doctor's sword.

Just silence and sadness,
greyness and madness,
long halls and dancers,
small windows and glances.
Terry Collett Dec 2016
You hated
the white walls
and large windows
showing the trees
and grounds
snow hidden
grey skies.

Other patients
behind you
on the locked ward
music from the radio
some love song.

Yiska stood beside you
you smelt her perfume
heavy dose.

Furore mentis
the Roman's called
our state of minds
confusion of mind
she said.

You turned
and gazed at her
too much going on
in my head
like the radar as gone
spinning out of control
you said.

You saw her
bandaged wrists
suicide attacks
of the previous day.

You ok today?
You said.

Less anxious
she replied
looking at her wrists
maybe I ought
to have tried
hang myself
as you tried
she added.

Same way
different door
you said.

You became silent
watching snow fall
heavy and slow.

Come for a walk
with me
she said
along the passage way
away from the mad
and deluded
and self harmers
(like us
you mused).

Sure
you said.

She took your hand
in hers
your wrist against
her bandaged one.

Where are you
two going?
a nurse asked you both.

For a walk
Yiska said.

The nurse studied you
no mischief then
she said
and walked off
her blue skirt
swishing from you.

What's she think
we'll go ****
or go hang ourselves?
Yiska said.

You walked along
the passageway
walked past
the ECT room
where you went
one evening to lie
on one of the recovery beds
but a nurse found her
(you were
out of sight)
and returned her
to her bed.

You dreamed of her
in your head
in your bed.
TWO PATIENTS  IN A  LOCKED WARD IN 1971
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