Waiting Room

There are no gods here.
Just gray, just dysfunction
Through dead in the water doors

Pandora’s boxception,
In a box, within a box,
Hard to breath boxed in

The Mind Intellectual,
Reverse product of environment,
Lion rage combustible,

Pharma soup-
Inside left, coat pocket
Just in case, just case

The geniuses, the saints, the sinners
Their skin, their skin is dirty,
Corpse filth writhing within.

It’s that plastic chairs, razor blade, pubic hair,
Mommy has forsaken me kinda thing,
Life forced into retirement.

It’s that rain soaked street kinda lonely.
Forgotten footprints,
Burned into cold linoleum

“Please don’t tap on the glass”
Animals with televisions for heads,
On display, individualistic fishbowls

The men in white articulate,
The men in white explain,
The men in white judge and pontificate

PC Words- not sick, different.