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INSTITUTIONALISED PEACE

May 8, 2018

Pregnancy, it’s lost,

Then comes the invalid:

Can’t take two stairs up or back,

I recall how he mocked:

All in fun’,

Now what’s left of you?

I saw your fate on the cards,

And, I don’t believe in such fates.

Running parallel to the truth,

All’s fair here, in truth;

In lies. Dishonest with doctor,

Having a laugh with doctor.

The morning I waited,

She, I, below him:

He knows this,

Conducting hair tests:

Testing for toxicity,

The weather will be fine.

It will be hot with sun,

Always a test:

Testing the limits,

Listening through a headset.

It just broke: there’s silence,

Seeing the world blind.

Bumping, scraping, etcetera,

And where to from here?

Hollywood or hell fires?

One at a time, they wait.

A frustrated tone,

A long, furious day.

Fighting back exhaustion,

Fighting against time itself.

It doesn’t concern you,

Time will have its way.

It will say: two little gimps,

Walking strange, right and left.

Walking slow, to block my passage,

Walking tall, to who knows where.

Walking stooped, till who knows when,

Walking poor, to a new destination.

Walking, one coast to another,

Walking, one step up, one down;

One forward, one back,

Urine smelling bags are packed.

Drop drop drop. All out eighty,

Trigger trigger finger poised.

There, there was Elsa, now Elise,

The café out back …. now I’m free.

And infirm, laughing and laughing,

They strap me down, hard.

They feed me drugs,

I feel fine.

No longer addicted,

But still, I’m confined.

They set an end-date to this,

It isn’t communicated to me.

With the drugs, I feel fine,

Within reason. I’m still here.

Far from ‘home’,

The only home I’ve known.

I tried, to no avail,

I tried to find a caring hand.

But always, I end up here,

Strapped down, drugged.

The free world’s not for me,

Institutionalised peace.

They welcome me, always,

If not here then there.

They tired of me here,

They sent me there,

All strapped in,

From worse to worse.

It’s always the same,

The bed, harder and harder.

Doctors have no time

For patients or for work.

Hence, they lack patience,

They suggest electroshock. I smile.

I always smile,

I’m well liked here.

I’m quiet at night,

I’ve no visitors.

I don’t speak,

To patients or other.

They don’t know the cure,

A mute. A difficult case.

But they’re the magicians,

The witches and sorcerers.

I think of my freedom,

That I could have at any time.

I could walk out the nearest door,

No alarms would sound.

I’m here by my own choosing,

And it’s all too easy to arrive here.

The word ‘suicide’. I’m strapped in,

They always have a place for me.

All my mail is directed here,

I walk the grounds, heavenly.

I walk the halls, stagnant,

Hospital smells are my reality.

Antiseptic and all,

I’ve more friends here than there,

Than elsewhere. On the outside,

The ‘outside’ world brought nothing.

I like being awoken, put back down,

I’m always punctual.

I never cause a fuss,

There’s never a raucous on my end.

I just quietly await my drugs,

It’s a holiday: different staff.

I look at them with suspicion,

They promise they’ve the right,

That they have my best interests at heart,

My heart is nothing to them.

They know not my case,

That I merely desire peace.

That can’t be had outside,

High walls, an open door.

Though it’s strange to take leave

In hospital gown and bracelet.

True: I’d prefer street attire,

But I wear what I’m told,

Ordered. I cherish this state,

They wonder what I write.

I tell them not,

I lock it all up tight.

Tell me what you know, child,

I bite my tongue. I’ve no worries.

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