Tuesday, July 28, 2009


My words are that of a King
The King of Liars
I am the King of a Kingdom
Filled with love and desire
To serve my people, here,
From my throne in this Asylum
They pad my throne in good trust but
They don’t let me write with pencils or pens here
So I use my bloody fingers upon the walls
They don’t give me paper due to the chance of cuts
But I bleed anyway
Then they wash my words away
With blast hoses used for fires
The straitjacket holds me as if I might fall
But the real straitjacket is inside
Where I am held aloft by tether wires
To make sure I do not drown
In their world I am paralyzed
And I scream without sounds
I see things that do not exist
I hear voices that surely insist
That the place I am here
Would be better off
With me deceased
And I cannot resist
The lure of the shallow grave
Once empty but now I am saved
By its welcoming comforts
By its solitary love instead of hate
By its empty bed
Welcomes me living and
Still I crave despite my survival
To be someplace else, instead
My arrival was unheralded
My passing will be unreported
For I solely long to be
A King of a Kingdom
Away from this happy place
This living wound
This Asylum