Asylum

(for Atakti's "Deranged" competition)

A memento mori

They are taking you away from me
like I always knew they would.
If ever I'd found my own way
I would have guided you if I could.

My mind is a bleak yet sprawling house,
each room holds a treasure.
Filthy stuffed cat a soft smear of grey,
white carousel horse in dark water.

The day without the breath of you,
soft smear of grey.
My life before and after you,
softened smear of grey.

Mama told me I was special,
there were things only I could know.
I could recite the alphabet backwards
and play "Chopsticks" on the piano.

When you’re in they pull something out of you.
Your sense of reason gives chase.
Some tiny gold-threaded tether
that once sewed you precariously in place.

Now rotting at the seams.
Oh, my serrated skin.
Your little eyes of moonbeams,
the bones of my hands worn thin.

Oh, little girl, do you remember
the lullaby of Brahm?
Water dripping from the ceiling
is now my cradle-song.

Soft and tinkling like the memories
they cannot extract from this place.
Soft and tickling like the warm and purr
of the kitten in your face.

How the quiet makes such a din.
All the faces are my own
as I crouch in the corner
trying to web myself in.

I couldn’t move as you waded out
while the velvet tide did swell.
My hands moved like a clock,
I thought your cries the songs of angels.

I can’t stop holding onto you,
trying to find the part of me I lack.
They try to tear us apart
but I find a way to come back.

We are adhered forever, only
the calla lilies try to call me back.

Everywhere I itch and burn.
In their eyes are the oozing remains
of ferris wheels and music boxes,
pretty girls prancing on rusty bed frames.

Now pretty girls with bloody eyes
prance on rusty bed frames.

The ballerina’s leg
torn from her body,
caught on the spring
and twirling madly.

She held a shard of glass to my throat.
I didn’t fight, I didn’t fight.
She cried and shook, she cried and shook,
her hatred of me pure and right.

Because your scent was so strong
it lingered within satin.
My mind set to clearing itself
to meet you in the end.

Little maid scrubbing the roach-writhing floor,
indelible as your hands in my head.
My mind clearing itself and unlocking the door
to meet you in the end.