Thrashing in the water (with Ducks)

I was mad.
Not angry, but mdddddd like a drunken mallard.
After my love killed herself, I was all whiskey and shaky dope.
I didn’t talk for a month
Or was it six
I can’t ‘member.
But when I was locked up (for my own good they sayd)
There were horrors
White staff smocks piled with blood
Dope divied up less than evnly
And one time, when Terry was extra randy,
They strung him up with scarves so blue
All covered up with false testimony and lies from pens.
So when it came time for me to eat medication
I grabbed my crayons and dreamed of that treehouse I had with my brother
And when they held me down like an animal
      -    when I didn’t feel like a person anymore –
I had to dream of ducks thrashing in the water
            Horrible honks from beaks
with my blue crayon I colored the syringe
Hoping that it would disappear
            Like webbed feet under water
                      (barely visible)

 

© 2007 Delwood Finch