《Leslie's Poems》the price of nothing

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"i could not remember a single good day that wasn't blinded by rose-colored lenses" i'd whisper

reclined back on that fainting couch

"perhaps that's bad," you'd say sketching in your notepad

listening and drawing, caring but not caring

"who are you even here for?"

the room dissipates into thin air, familiar face gone, standing at a counter staring into the eyes of a nurse

she knows, doesn't know, know a goddamn thing, how much i loathe being here

"please let me out. "

"you haven't been discharged yet, dear"

a whole 'nother experience, slamming on the glass, slamming, slamming as he helplessly dies

"you'd die without me, and i for one do care about that"

"you think of me as a helpless child"

"of course i don't/do why id never heard such a thing such as a dream like that"

"could you hold on a moment? i have a very important call to take"

ring ring,

hello?

this is the doctor speaking, i see you have a problem. i suggest turning it off and back on again- goodbye!

ring ring, hello? hello hello hello-

"wrong number. now, how may i help you?"

"look, something just isn't, isn't right about this place"

wanna get out, outside back then and back again, there out there a world full of- just let me out of here

please

"try again, later i'll see you later, back and back and repeat, hello?"

ring ring

who is this? who the hell are you?

i missed you, so, so much

stop fucking calling me

ring ring- goodbye! goodbye!

eyes tilted back up towards the ceiling

it had lovely paintings, sideways and upside down, little boats on the bay

"come again next week!"

i kissed you goodbye, held your hand again, looked you in the eyes.

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"what a strange little mirror."

line forming behind me, others waiting to wish you goodbye

not fair, you know, never is fair

"ain't nothing fair."

"you done in that goddamn bathroom yet? still staring at your lovely visage-"

eyes burning, you were taken away, little dog, stray cat followed a woman down an alley street

spinning 'round clicking and clacking

smoke on the air, cigarette still burning

turned around before the SLAM entered your chest

fall

fall to the ground

slam into the concrete again

"what's a narrative? what's a story? what's a biography?" i'd ask myself again

"so, that's your life story then? no wonder-" you'd mutter, scribbling in the notepad as the room reappears

"i didn't pay for you to judge me."

"but you're mistaken, old friend.

that's what mirrors are for."

broken-hearted (mental breakdown), bottom of the bathroom floor. left in disarray, (the fetal position), crying and sobbing.

"So, how are you feeling today?"

December 2021

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