been talking to walls
for what seems like an age now
whose?
not sure
not mine
not yours
only three new stains today
one on the door
two on the floor
spittle and blood
i have been buried in the sky
and only god alone knows why
buried in an endless run of halls
buried in parts within these walls
walls of beige canvas covered foam
might have a roof
but it’s not a home
my door is keyed on the outside
my freedoms curtailed to within
fully contained
within
this rubber room
this rubber doom
these walls of padded foam
my madness my home
all the muffled yells
curses, cries and moans
echo back to me
i am a victim
of my own disease
and its cure