Sanitarium Of The System

gray walls with no pictures for fear of outside thoughts.
Stand here please!
yellow tape strips the floor and takes my will with it: follow.
What's your purpose here?
the air is thick and it feels like swimming through warm gelatin,
Sit in those chairs!
while swimming, time melts into flypaper and traps me in an unforgiving embrace.
B001 go to window 21
i have become customer: B019. I check the ticket every time the viewer flashes,
B002 go to window 4
the fluorescent lighting from above is heavy on everyone's shoulders as they walk
they bend under the pressure, its also heavy on my eye lids.
CONFORM! FOLLOW! YOU ARE ONE OF US!
it flashes and I can't believe what I'm seeing and this time there is a voice, a soothing
female voice, only slightly audible over the white noise of the crowd.
B018 go to window 28
i spring awake. Oh, only a dream, I'm next and then I can leave this awful place.
B019 go to window 10
Finally, I burst out of my seat. Window 10 is at the opposite side of the room.
B019 go to window 10
its repeating! Window 10 has someone standing there. The man behind the counter is wearing a purple shirt that states: The new DMV is great!
May I help you?
i threw up my ticket. Waving it frantically, sweat begins to roll down my face.
Sorry you were too late. I moved on. Have a seat and I'll get to you as soon as I can.

by Heath Harrington

Other poems of HARRINGTON (16)

Comments (2)

Heath! you are an incredible poet! i love your style the wisdom of your words astounds me' what i am trying to say is i want to read more of your poetic rampages
Ah, the joys of beaurocracy, queueing for a living to the beckoning of disembobied voices and ticket tout machines that determine your place in the pecking order of supplicants awaiting your stamp of approval. Superb Heath, superb.