This the freak room
the inner gulag
it foldeth it don’t exist
this the pocket it empty
they tell us
they stamp us
they condemn us to cold
this the zero
we wear it
we hide it
we shuffle alone
in day rooms
in night rooms
our rosary bones
this the time out
the white out
the mind out
it broken inside
it don’t get no better
it smile
it pill-cup
it xerox the day
it xerox the day
it tv
it happy
it die it don’t die anymore
it say what they say
it don’t say
it don’t hurt
it pretend it so good
they don’t hurt it none more
***
In their hands by the hips
did they grip us
and limp we fought not
not what
not anything
they aimed it not straight
to the heart of us
the bullseye we freely abandoned
the empty doorway
where who watched us would watch us
as if they could find us
when was the last time
we asked who’s there
the last time we cared the last time
we said anything worth saying
out loud we learned
we lost faith
this antennae of static
we raised
this buzz for our prayer
this paper nest
light as a soul
we washed our hands
in the wasps of it all
we arent numb
we are free
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