She chomps, she chows, she claps and applauds
And when she is done
She finds that she was too loud
In fact, she was determined to draw attention
To herself
And when she tried she climbed upon a shelf
But then she cried because she fell
The way she delved into the couch cooshuns
And hit her arm on the metallic pole weighing a ton
But it wasn\'t her fault
If anything she blamed it on her parents
Their hard ambitions to put her through college
To give her an education they never got
but sought to have.
So they saved their can
And put money in it
Acted as if
She fit
in English lit
But when she became
Mentally ill
And fell against the floor
She climbed again to the ceiling fan
And her parents felt
Disabled.
Disappointed
she was all they were
All they had was one daughter
One pride
One joy
Their little girl
Maybe they should have had a boy
But it was too late for that now
She was simple-minded.
As simple as a cow
Her home was the feeling
Of being close to the ceiling
But maybe its because
As of now
Her life was upsidedown
And the ceiling felt like the ground,
A structure of madness
A path complete
Four corners
No curves
Just a soft place for two feet
To tread along
in the calmness of a pond
The imaginative textile beauties of lily pads
Except it was not that
The ceiling was clean
In a sharpened way
neat
It was something that made her think time away
All throughout the day
But at night
was when she came alive
Enjoying her food
And constructing a prize
She put effort in
The passion she drew
Curves of letters
And wrote so few
Some may say
A legend she grew
But it was only the people
Her eyes knew
The imaginary ones
That walked upon
The ceiling so swift; ly
right along
The side of her
A beautiful spur
Of hope on tongues
But there was nothing vaguely unique about the space
In reality, it was just a place
That she felt safe
So to her, she appreciated rhythm and melody
She loved to think about these things
And imagine a sound so serene
Like soft sheets of silk
And the tranquility of a child\'s dream
That quickly turned to an ugly scene
A scene of sadness
And echoey screams
A scene of wrinkles, crinkles, and trees
But not the good trees
They were willow trees;
the kinds that would weep
A multitude of Ugly thoughts
And ideas so tedious and unclean
They ran at her fast surrounding and mean
How could she know she was schizophrenic at four
with all the Doctors at the door
Drilling symptoms and diagnosing her
with ocd.
Now she repeats
The words in her head
The sentences so short
And the rhythms of dread
The beat in my head
I\'m Interrupted as I lie in my bed
Why is it that my mind can\'t stop
Watching that ceiling fan spin around top
When nothings actually moving
Its a feeling in me
Of quiet sound
Too quiet til it becomes increasingly loud
driving me crazy because only in silence
The four corners of the ceiling derive a melody
As they meet in the middle and swoop to a beat
But now all the fan does is screech
It scratches the ceiling, the only clean space
Each time now scratching and screeching in a circular way
A clock-like scar that drives me crazy.