If we could choose

If we could choose

To escape the clamour

Some would queue

To get into the asylum

With its white walls

And quiet room

Many have jumped at the chance

Of a restart

Electroshock therapy

Was a Laingian favourite

A realignment

Of his flesh and bones

To the spark of life within.

Sanity and madness

Hang

On the belief we are more than

Our flesh

There would be a queue

To the door of the boneyard

If we were sure

But there is just enough doubt

To keep a coward honest.

We cling to life

For fear of missing

What happens when we are gone

There are no windows

No easy escape

Into a white room

With pastel paintings

On the walls

Soft furnishings tastefully sited

With a chain to hold them down

Hoping no one will notice,

As the flesh slowly melts

Into the linoleum

The bones drop

Into the deep

There is no escape committee

To convince.

Freedom is a dalliance

An opaque illusion

No soul

With or without discretion

To carry the pain away

Death will come softly

But the darkness

Will linger

Unrecognised.