room 101

i try and tell you 
of my room 101 
with a hard stare 
and a fear 
over two candles

i cannot say 
the black crows circling 
over gothic ruins, the 
frosted grass and my 
winter panes, the 
invisible bars

i cannot say the
choking fear in the throat -
don't cry don't cry they'll
see - as i shift my
crutches and wonder if
my body can
get up off the chair

the ward is quiet
stale air unmoving
and down the corridor
past these beds i hear
the TV and the strumming
singing of the blonde
boy in red clothes, flaming,
mad as a hatter

and the roller-shutter hatchways 
where i had to choose 
the food that was keeping

my body alive 
and holding in my 
wandering mind, the panic 
bird in my chest, my 
broken broken heart

i cannot say the 
bone pain, the scream 
of them as i could not 
lie, or turn, or stand, 
or sit, or fall down 
without searing my brain 
with pain

i cannot say the
isolation, the absolute
loneliness, the barred
door the imprisoned
eyes and lungs that longed to
breathe crisp winter air
but was not allowed
out there - the wheelchair

narrow and uncomfortable 
not under my jurisdiction

i cannot tell 
the stark awful white 
fright of powerlessness, of 
disempowerment, of 
volition taken away - any 
wild thing imprisoned 
goes mad - the bed my 
world and the slightest 
vibration of the ward floor, 
a casual dunt of the bed, 
my sheer red hell of 
knifing pain

i cannot say the freezing
of a life, the stunted grass,
the dereliction, where i
disappeared from view and came up
broken, unmade, the staring
eyes of hospital staff, the indifferent
hearts, unhearing
ears, unseeing eyes

as this meat was 
pinned and placed in linen, 
and, job done, the 
door closed and they 
left me alone. the whole

world was gone and there was
no-one to trust
no-one to care
for a piece of drifted rubbish
lying there. i never saw

love like the
one i lost when
she died. and me left

all outside with 
strangers and fears. in a 
humanitarian place of licence 
and success, of skill 
and years of training 
for the ill - there were

no humans there - their 
machine stares, rude mouths 
and casual hands, their 
forcing arms and accusations 
undid my care

and a hatred grew
for life
for their lack.

i cannot say
my fear, here, now,
over a dinner table
miles and years from there
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