Wednesday, September 19, 2007


Well from Mumble to grumble isn't a long way.
He sat in front of me, looking preoccupied, far away, shifting his head in a way reminiscent of a certain movement disorder and he looked at me vaguely after I had called out his name a couple of times. And then he started, sad unhappy and almost whiny. It were these people he said, who had nothing better to do in the past few years than talk about him all day long. In various languages, but always about him talking about whatever he does, about whatever he thinks, critical, irritating, and unceasing. Minute by minute, day after day and year after year. They could see him and whatever he saw via cameras in his eyes and he could hear them by way of a speaker in his head. And he was quite sick of them, after bottles of alcohol, packs of cigarettes, and drugs galore, they were there, they were real and they were a pain. In that one moment, maybe a fraction of a second, I sat in his place and felt what he felt and I was terrified.

1 comment:

Nisha said...


Here behind a locked steel door
on the hospital's second floor
I'm starting to feel at home
I've been here before
Its so quiet here in this room
a silence as deep as a tomb
as I slowly faded into
the deepening gloom

Haunted by scenes as yet unseen
and dreams exquisitely obscene
and the memory of her eyes
of deepest forest green
The fields of my heart are fringed
by flames and sometimes I get singed
only that pain seemed real as I
slowly come unhinged

Footsteps that echo on the stair
seem to follow me everywhere
I'd look to see who's behind me
but I just don't dare
And the terror surged through my soul
leaving ashes and a black hole
like a puppet on a string I
played my assigned role

And I tried to be so strong
tried so hard to just get along
I answered every question they asked
but still I don't belong
With bloodied knees I tried to climb
up out of all this dirt and grime
but ended up where I began
time after time

In the grey light of the predawn
I gazed out on the darkened lawn
dreaming of the day the bars on the
window would be gone
Stare unseeing at the TV
a shadow of what I used to be
wrestling with phanthoms in my head
waiting to go free

The doctors who once seemed so wise
have come and said their goodbyes
but I continue to hide here
behind these empty eyes
Now my therapy is all done
with prescription pills by the ton
I turn my face from you and ask
Am I having fun?

by Maddy vanD

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