Jog, burn 300 calories, to where white washed walls
bleach decaying values
The Institution for Media Defected Persons [Subliminally Cursed]
The label as vibrant as Vegas lights
In her clenched fist a prescribed doctors note
[Can her doctor be her dealer?]
Gone for three hours without a wave goodbye
Doesn't need reassurance, tap dancing on MTV's natural high
A clear puddle from out of sync sprinklers reflecting
what she doesn't want to see
Only her shrinking, cutting dinner and lunch
Half a grapefruit for breakfast
Will she tolerate to see

Institution windows are sealed
Ghosts of faces pressed to pane
A stability where immune friends can't rewire the
Damage that's being done
Foreign sub-sign
Disoriented eyes not taking it in
"sknaks dna, sgurd, xes- ytterp eb"
Subliminal messages for the distraught eye
"Be pretty- sex, drugs, and skanks"
Just say yes to skank

The door jarred open, welcoming her right in
Not like the ambulance's colors hollering for permission slips
to her OD'D friend
Last chance, 'get out of jail free' card
Thirst for cheering nameless faces eclipsed the well of immunity
It's too many dice rolls back to start
And the addiction to superficial media prescribed beauty
Is too happy to see her
 
Copyright © wormhole, All Rights Reserved