All my friends are fucking crazy
But I like it that way,
‘Cause I’m pretty fucking crazy too.
Here’s the story of nothing new.
Hermes pale highway messenger
Born screaming from addiction’s icy womb,
Fattened & pacified on the sweet tit
Of modern society’s modern methods,
Of psychiatric re-education.
Ritalin before he was old enough to run,
Observation, misinformation, Dexedrine, Lithium, Adderall.
ADD, ADHD, Borderline Personality, Bipolar
Cluttering his life with doctors & mounds of clipboards.
Battle after battle to get free,
Then he spent his shaky teens,
Snorting capsule after capsule of amphetamine,
Eight pills at a time made into neat little lines,
Insufflated off a fine china plate,
Rocking back & forth in the corner,
Eyes like small bloody balloons about to burst.
Raven-haired Helen,
Born into gardens where blood & dirt mix to make pain.
She was first raped at four years old,
Playhouse turned torture chamber,
Home turned into just another prison cell.
Bastard man walked free, no charges,
No bullets in the head,
Leaving his rusty iron chains behind
Wrapped tight around her broken little wings.
No charges. No jail time. No bullets to the head.
They just let him stroll back onto the streets,
Predatory animal awaiting its next chance to feed.
She drinks & drinks to defy earthly pain,
Fourteen years old swallowing hundreds of pills
To polish her chains.
Ecstasy, meth, heroin
Shot into her young mainline during an ecstasy freak out
By her older junky, suicide pact lover.
They agreed to meet at the bridge
To die together
But the cops dragged her in,
& She never saw love again.
Suicide watch psych ward,
Involuntary Bates motel for damned, disliked & defeated.
Rights removed, prisoner shambling down disinfectant halls,
Seeing storm cloud old friends
With thick noose scars around thin necks.
Out for a funeral to say goodbye,
To a friend that escaped,
But never got free.
–Jack Blare
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