Remote Control (Partial Draft)

(You know, I won't have time to get the fancy footwork Off my neck this pass through, those old eschars Painting their portraits of future stares From the nervous clusters of younger girls Who will keep their wary distances.) "'Login window expired. Please try again.'" This will earn me a bureaucratic shrug Void of interest in relevant context Outside which the girl confirms them: {She needs to be here another day. She needs her privilege taken away.} Do I have anything left they must condemn? (Our only older woman looks perplexed.) Do I have anything left they can not drug? "'Don't know where, don't know when.'" {Go the path of least resistances.} (Being kept as one of your precious pearls, Being known as yours, not treated as theirs, Sees me through each day behind these bars.) Here you go: *pickled moonlight smirk* They will do my nails for me again. Down to blunt stubby stumps. "'It ain't that in their hearts they're bad.'" (Trust me, I will grow them back Before I reach them out to yours And lightly run them up your arm, Then jump them from your shoulder To your chin and ever so lightly Pass them across your parted lips, Ever so lightly until you bite hard Wanting to know how sharp they had to be To be regarded as so dangerous.) Ooooo, but yeah can I be perfect! I will show there where they missed, File it down raw with my teeth Before sliding against a tender gum To demonstrate I still know how To taste what my appetite wants. Jean exits her room and takes a bow. Judges creep in wielding instruments. "'I have fallen far beneath.'" But I know where Jean came here from. It's daddy's fault, is that correct? (Jesus Christ, just get me kissed And I'll betray myself for free.) {Open up, dear. Share it with us.} Jean stands up and completely strips. The young girls stare at how she's scarred. <I can make it a whole lot colder.> Yeah but I'm headed where it already might be. Jean checks my eyes and calls them hers. {Let us help, dear. We mean you no harm.} I will have no more. I've just been had. Freedom burns brightly just through that crack - She knows where I'll go more than where I've been. (My head hurts bad. My tired heart jumps.) Look, come look, the short girl's bleeding. She looks like a poem - distant, vapid. "'There is no pain, you are receding.'" Check out the screen, see what she's been reading: Some recent scab, she keeps trying to scrape it. Look, come look, the short girl's bleeding. Screw your damn tubes, I don't need re-feeding. It's my own body, you don't need to reshape it. "'There is no pain, you are receding.'" Her smile's rehearsed, her casual air's misleading. Without our tourniquets, she won't make it. Look, come look, the short girl's bleeding. Let me find my own way of succeeding. <Trust me, it won't kill you, we can take it.> "'There is no pain, you are receding.'" My progress my own doctors are impeding. I look like a prisoner - clinical, naked. Look, come look, the short girl's bleeding. "'There is no pain, you are receding.'" Everything's under control. I'll be fine. {Sign here please.} No, that I decline. It aches me to keep this smile in place. <I can help you to leave no trace.> {She wasn't fixed before. She left too soon.} The butterfly dies when you puncture her cocoon. By night I make myself swallow pill after pill. When day clocks in "'I sleep beneath the golden hill.'" (My head hurts bad.) There is no pain as such As long as I do not look, but only touch. They're only thoughts I'll have, not some disease, Don't cure me of their voices. {Sign here please.} No really, I'll be fine. I still know what's real As such as long as I touch, but do not feel. I'm given my morning meds in a small paper cup. Thank you, bitch. {I'll have to write you up.} I've only one goal that's worthy to achieve. <You know who I am. I can help you leave.> I want no help. It will not last. I want no attention. I'm quite used to scorn. I want no therapy. I'm done with my past. I want no pity. There's nothing to mourn. I want no applause. I'm not here to perform. I want no prayers. I'll be fine in my hell. I want no treatment. Who's to say what's the norm? (I want no one else. Only you know me well.) It's too late now. They should leave me alone. I can't be fixed and made as if I'm new. Recovery? I'll manage on my own And with the love of friends who'll see me through. (Thank you know who for me, he's rather kind. <They'd give it second thoughts if he but knew.> One word from him's worth all my drugs combined. But all I need to work it out is you.) Another day of black lies in my file, Another nurse without a fucking clue, Another line I write outside my style, Another nightmare made to turn out true. (Just you and you, please be at home inside. Don't tell anybody else how much I tried.) Once again good morning, girls, once again later on good night. <They can't really hear you, darling. They believe you are already dead.> *Shrug* Doesn't matter anyway. I don't know how much more I'll fight. They're off inspecting my passport and reserving me my own bed. Only one of my thousands of voices might lose its pride. But nothing new here, girls, just move your own little carts along. Let them give you your lives back, I already have mine close. I'm too beyond their redemption, I've done too much of their wrong. You've still got enough your own lives left for them to diagnose. Only one of my thousands of voices will have died. I have to laugh and laugh, girls, but don't lose your straight face. Where else in here can one such as I go to find some lasting fun? Jean won't be gone from us long, we can save her seat and her place. We say what's left. "'It may be our words find nothing, find no one.'" Only one of my thousands of voices needs to hide. I am about to get me new eyes, girls, you go on seeing what you want. <They can't really see you, darling. They believe you're a dream.> Next time I pass through a mirror, I won't be nearly so gaunt. Next time I watch my mouth move, it will not be to scream. Only one of my thousands of voices should be denied. My shadows will move through our hallways, girls, pure background stuff. {I'll have to write you up.} Fuck it, do what it takes to be paid. Now that I know I can love and be loved, I have known quite enough. <They can't really love you, darling. You can only get laid.> Only one of my thousands of voices lipsyncs suicide. I practice what I preach, girls, go and practice your own petty fad. (You and you there, I won't stop either, I just want you to know.) {I'll have to write you up.} Bitch, I don't care who you think is mad. <They can't really cure you, darling. All you can do is to go.> Only one of my thousands of voices makes it outside. Just alert me when The next prisoner exchange Will be.

pearls