Morning after the journey from Heaven down to Hell.
We flew all night past the warning signs unaware of the dice-roll just ahead.
Contents of our baggage strewn shredded on the hotel floor.
Cabbage, torn apart; our backs to the great divide.
You’re off to hide in Maryland; I jump the tram to Disneyland.
Study myself in the looking glass, but another joker’s face is there.
Comb his hair, brush his teeth,
Sit in his chair at the restaurant.
Eat his pancakes, swipe his keys, pretty as you please.
Step on the gas, not a backward glance. Roam his wild-ass dreams.
Nothing beats the clarity of madness.
Ghosts in the belfry smash my bell spawning little devil bells.
I stroll between the tombstones arranging dead flower stems.
My wandering bones dissolve, detach themselves from my soul.
The cashier in her cashmere sweater points her nose at the door.
I realize I’ve lost my mind; there’s nowhere up from here,
Cops say I’m fucked up, but baby, I’m just fucked.
Walgreens parking lot, 1 am; got to walk straight for the officer.
Shake out webs spidy spun in my head
2-step, 6-step, Lego leg, blender footwork all the same to them.
Vertigo, alcohol; who’s to tell?
Cuff link, bend head, take a free ride on the public dime.
Station break, breath test, inky fingers, blood test.
Babe, they say I’m all fucked up, but really I’m really just pissed.
*
Morning in the psych ward. Who the fuck are you?
The blackness of last night paints the canvas of my mind.
“Doc will see you soon. Here, just take this pill.”
Why am I still here? There’s nothing wrong with me?
“Take this pill and settle down, the doc will be here soon.”
Fuck your pills your obfuscation.
You’re out of tune, cacophony.
You may be in the conversation, but you’re not really real.
Just pinch yourself, I’ll prove it; pop your pretty balloon, set your helium free.
You’re the one who’s ill. I’m the one who’s me.
“We detect rebellion, a hint of insurrection.”
911—where’s the fire alarm? Got to escape this tinderbox.
Devil’s about to burn it down.
“An injection will help to cool you down.”
Hold me down. Poke around. Haldol can’t stop me.
You’re just hallucinations—ghouls I shouldn’t talk to.
No joke, no lie, I’m on fire. Get me a water hose.
Got to keep my wits if I’m to run for President.
If only all these residents would vote me into Heaven!
I’d send a text to the Devil, God rest his weary soul.
Invite him up for a cup of wine.
Along with all the famous sinners,
we’d turn the place upside down,
create a free museum,
unveil all the mysteries,
let people see ‘em.
