I own a walk in clinic
where all the drugs are sweet
labeled without mercy
and
thrown into the streets
a golden pill of solitude
amongst
the anger in your head
it will call with all conviction
from
the table near your bed
and break the sexual tension
like a
hammer or a song
leaving tiny pieces everywhere
as the whole is
nearly gone
I own a walk in clinic
the doctors are
assured
that sickness is a untreatable
but troubled visions
are all cured
you're sure looking
very frail
with your hands about your waist
this church will
take you in my girl
for a simple little taste
it'll wrap
up your emotions
and cast away your cloths
it has known the way
inside you
from the moment that you chose
To kneel before
a bulb
shining light into your skin
drawing lines around your
tumors
growing flowers from your sins
And the pill is
running madly
through your papers and your bills
it has come to
take your signature
as it wrestles with your will
From the counter top it
swears
It has never been so proud
as when it choked you up with
opium
and you laughed up from the ground
at every shifting
crack of light
every groan of wind
it was better when the ally
way
before your eyes, began to bend
I own a walk in
clinic
the chairs are breaking down
amidst the fury of your
sitting
And the absence of your frown