E.C.T. or Charter over the prison in Michigan City, IN

I've almost got everything arranged
in right angles.
I try to limit wasted space
and weigh my milligrams
day by day
like a lifetime lock-away.
Bread and butter,
meat and potatoes,
curds and whey…
They never say
the diagnosis
while you're in the room,
within ear-shot
you'll never be allowed
to know
what you suffer from
except for:
abusive sadistic patients
who like it rough
when the lights go out
try to scream
and alert the nurse
there's no saving your soul, now, bro
I'm blasting your *ssh*l*
the blood will lubricate
they'll try to sew you up
but being enfirmed
is the same as eradicated
thrown right back
into general pop
to let all the knowing inmates talk
it's just like
an Animal Planet special
watching Renee bust her head
down the hallway
with her helmet…
she's okay
then they strap her down
to the bed
for an hour of screaming
“I ain't ever making egg salad again,
you can bet me!”
or
“Please set me free,
would you, please??
Please…?”