Mental Hospital

Slamming doors, huge thumping sounds;
Prison officers standing all around
Medication that fucks the psyche,
Tracksuit bottoms by Adidas or Nike

Day time television blaring out,
Psychosis is the removal of all self-doubt,
global telepathy in our heads,
Psychic sleeping in our beds

I sent a poem to a magazine
I take my Depakote and Thorazine
Permanent cigarette and cup of tea
Shaving mirror reflecting me.

What are those mansions of the mind?
What sort of people do we find?
Within these walls, sequestered away,
no one is going home today.

Threatened by high security,
Medicated mental purity,
The purity of raw violence,
how about some space and silence?