On The Mistreatment of the Mentally Unhinged

Locked in the snake pit where smiles have left them for ever graves;

  the 13 remain with the many behind iron gates, forgotten and underfed.

Eight human souls sit on the floor under the world with their backs leaning against filthy padded walls. They count their woes and years on each other’s tired brows.

Another shits in his own wheelchair

                     and laughs hysterically ‘cause he knows

                               he’s not the only one

                                                      doing it.

Three more are put away in the attic behind a government lock with their ghosts and creeping thoughts blowing spirits into the eye of the shadow ~ they exist in makeshift crib cages.

The stench of their stale feces floats dry with the spoiled dust.

And there’s one more ~

the last one’s downstairs in the center of the room thoughtlessly walking around in circles, her fingers intertwined her wings down in flames  ~  she’s walking and pissing

confused because her mind cannot complete

                                        a simple thought or remember the names.

1994 
Victor Millan