SUFFERING

They slam the door behind me, not realizing the sound of the lock does not phase me, so now my time goes tick tock tick tock. This is not a prison. This is where you go to express all those feelings that make you crazy in others' minds. Once again, I find myself in a place like this, with people with blank stares in their eyes and the smell of piss in their pants.

There is no coffee or doughnuts, just dolls and coloring books and the cameras on the wall capturing my expression, but what they do not know is that I only have one look.

Is this supposed to be like some club med? Because if it is, I would rather be on Rikers Island with the rest of the rats who were chasing the government cheese

Give me my milk and goddamn cookies. I refuse to take your fucking pills to escape my reality. Maybe it is you fuckers living in a dream world. You tell me with a smile you are relapsing, you are seeing the things that no longer exist, and you need to stay awhile.

I say f*ck you all, give me a book and a pen. I need to write some god-awful poetry before I lose my beautiful mind that you bastards say is no longer there. I was hoping you could give me my childhood teddy bear; I bet he can understand the madness you call suffering.