I’ve never felt More luxurious Than when I was on a newly Prescribed drug With a total body high, Coming down from mania, Still exuberant, But in a private space, In my bathroom In the ward, In a bathtub That does not fill up. So I put on the shower And I let the water hit my skin And I took bite after bite Of crisp and juicy apple slices. I was at the mental hospital Marilyn Monroe stayed in. I imagined her here in the same bath Also feeling luxurious and all sorts Of ****** up like me.
Into this world world will come, A few, Very precious souls. Who will not fit Into your cookie cutter molds. Yet, To your ideals, You try to make them hold. And never realize, They may be, The purest form of gold
I wrote this when I watched the staff in a "mental" ward openly laugh and make fun of someone who was challenged when they attempted to make him the same as almost everyone else.I don't conform either and was quite upset by their actions and treatment of this individual. I simply say that they are "differently enabled" than others and staff would have used resourse myuch better to find what the person was good at instead of forcing them to comply and making fun.
I remember the supervised showers The crushed ice The cries at night The feeling of losing control The idea that earbuds with the right twist and ties could make me die The sewn on pillowcases The weapon in scissors, mirrors, handles, sheets, bedposts, bags, shampoo, straps, glass, pens The misdemeanor The boy who’s anorexia was his slow suicide The girl with two siblings that killed themselves How everyone wanted to **** themself The 7-year-old that only cried The lime green hallways that haunt my mind
Death's flowing scroll Aweing as you misstep,falling In a loop which,once surpassed, Is encompassed with laughter. Glaring down,screaming. You both scream in unison,so bitter It causes the trees in the glen To bend and whimper—
Flickering back in time for a moment: Snakebones traced from inside the walls Slithering malady for countless centuries; Shedding it's calloused flakes from time to time... What is that which the starshine overhead emulates? Is it whiteblood or mere rain? lo,mere dust Thrown throughout the black sky.
Death guides you to the brim of the cliff. He is uniformed in your old clothes,brandishing eery whispers By the flick of his tongue. 'Scream now And you will scream for an eternity.'
Might delete soon but nonetheless. Inspired by two very underrated creative geniuses of the 20th century Lyn Ward paid his due in influencing the graphic novel with his wordless novels -specifically, Gods' Man, which's ending this scene is based on- And George Macbeth might be the best Scottish poet and one of the best experimental poets of the 20th century. He was fairly popular in his time but for whatever reason has fallen into obscurity as of late.
As I wake I mistake the sirens as my name The wail telling me to come That I’ve got lost again and I need to follow them home Home as in the straight jacket hospital Home as in you belong here Home as in basically GSA Your mind is the only sharp thing in sight And the rope once noose tying you down