Wet paint, cold tiles, white bed, bright fluorescent lights like
Diamonds. Like scalpels. Like the doctors in the hallway
There. My keeper in his white coat at the doorway. My little clear plastic cup.
Look at the faces. Look at the faces as they walk down the hall
To the small common room. Look at Alex in his bathrobe, crying
And rocking back and forth on the ground. He's crazy. Fucking
Batshit. But he's alright in small doses. My fingers now trembling like earthquakes.
Now the people start appearing and the room starts filling with
Flies that blot out the diamonds on the ceiling. And the walls
All breaking. Their mouths now gnashing, biting, and screaming.
Thick flesh in their mouths coming out without a sound.
My keeper in his white coat at the doorway. My little clear
Plastic cup. He asks me with a smile, "What's the score today,
Champ?" before the lights go out at night. My people are coming
To get me. My people will come to release me.
