Long time no talk. Still here. Much discussion of mental illness ...
I've used it as a (typically weird) metaphor in my latest.
The Skill
"I don't know how you do it,"
says Norton in '93.
"You outlasted Reagan,
and now these Democrats are in,
so maybe this place will stay open."
(Reduced to one wing, mostly me
and Norton. Smaller and worse
meals than before, no heat
or air,
but it isn't my place to care
or speak.) "And how you avoid
meds," Norton continues
to muse. "No crap on your walls or
pants, no aggression, no
excuse. I mean, I'm on to you
but I don't know what I'm on
to, if you know what I mean.
Which you do.
It's why I don't visit you
in the night. You ain't weak."
And when he's tired of playing
guard, he wanders away, and
I'm on for the day.
The corridors are long, I
not only learnèd but supple-
minded enough to think: Satan/
God, Ahriman/Ormuzd,
that sexless couple.
With Russia gone, I guess there will be
no war. I must have another.
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