trans allegheny lunatic asylum

๐“ฑ๐“ช๐”‚๐“ต๐“ฎ๐“ฒ๐“ฐ๐“ฑ

I lie in this bed,

watch dust glitter in moonlight

the bed adjacent to mine

empty for quite some time.

 

and the nurses would smoke 

in the hallways, and the doctors too

but tobacco has become

foreign now.

 

I rise from this bed

and walk around to socialize

they're wading spectres 

compounded energies

left over from our neglect.

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Comments +

Comments3

  • 2781

    A telling a story in vivid imagery

  • sorenbarrett

    A poem of what we are made of dust, dry skin cells scattered things change including who we are as we shed all we are made of and the doctors and nurses come and go as does the tobacco all specters left over from our neglect

  • Tristan Robert Lange

    Hayleigh, thereโ€™s a haunting calm in this that really lingers. The dust, the empty bed, the quiet movement through it allโ€ฆthen that turn into something more than just memory. It feels like presence layered on absence. Beautifully done, my friend. ๐ŸŒน๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ•ฏ๏ธ๐Ÿฆโ€โฌ›



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