| 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 are coming to release me
|
| My people, they are coming, they are coming to get me
|
| My people will come to release me |