I wrote this very quick today. I lay down yesterday to calm the calamites and sundries. I remembered someone saying they go to their happy place in their head. And I thought of what would be my happy place.
This is... My Happy Place
Over the iron filigree fence clutched in ivy,
I’m sitting, quiet, in white cotton pyjamas.
I’m sitting, quiet, in white cotton pyjamas.
Trees tuned, precise garden.
Wildflowers roll like the ocean.
No, an absorption.
Swallows the sun and the panic.
The nurses are also dressed utterly in white.
White shoes too.
They are quiet.
Go to your happy place, maiden.
Sweet airs scatter ideas like a murmur of birds.
Inside, the library contains writing paper
Finely tuned and furnished.
Silent, like pointless haunting.
No, a heart sickening.
It pleads for an injection to beat.
The nurses take my arm and often guide me in.
I feel a sting.
They are quiet.
Go to your happy place, mister.
Where I go to. I can't remember ever leaving.
I’m in my happy place with melancholia.
Perfectly precise and tuned.
Hospital hangs moon white.
No, seashell upturned.
Spirals, reflections, part of the body.
Lunatics around me, dressed white as pearls.
And I am one.
They are quiet.
Go to your happy place, animal.
No comments:
Post a Comment