In the mind of “that kid” in a wheel chair whom you never went and talked to
my vocal chords
are a sputtering car engine
Whirring, spitting, f
The wrong sounds escape me
a Vehicle that cannot be controlled
And I am the driver.
my arms slap my armrests furiously
The wings of a desperate bird caught under a
Plastic bag, but I will never be free
And to be Me
Comeoncomeoncomeon… I think,
to stand and to not collapse within
Daunting seconds where
10 worried faces peer into mine
They see me—drooling,snortingshrieking in hideous clothes I haven’t selected with hair too short for my pudgy face,and acne that needs to be treated with soap and hot water,and my crooked yellow teeth because
with Every seizure+procedure done on the me that they see
They have forgotten to brush My teeth.
They listen to the me that they see
But they don’t hear Me.
2 unhappy ppl with frowns “stapled” into the.skin.under.their.nose//s
Who see me once a day because
They feel obligated
To remind themselves
of the mistake that made joy as it once was—an alien term
I am that mistake.
I reallyreallyreallyreally wish they knew that
I hear their every word
And I fight to speak
I fight so hard to let them know I am more
Then just a
More than a limp toy who gets fed
cared for, but not entertained
more than the product of 2 people who
are afraid to love me who
regret me too
fearful to try again.
My words get caught they come out as gurgles and whines.
My voice sizzles and dies
and i am no longer
The victim of a blue bucket
I am nobody you will ever meet
A mere shadow—
Unwanted on the steps of another’s house
With a bag full of all I own
Stripped away of sentimental things.
Someone gets pushed onto the
Fire escape above my resting spot
They hold a blue bucket
Water sloshing over the sides
They pour it
Onto my vulnerable, unprepared head.
I am soaked down to the bone
I say nothing, instead I stand
Picking up my dripping bag
I shuffle away convincing myself
That I deserved this
I am not convincing enough
I am just sad.
I stand at the corner with
Nowhere to go nobody to
A woman walks by she is on the phone
Her words are like silk
I swallow them and they slide
Down my throat.
On the streets of Chicago
So many more shadows
So many more victims with
Their own blue buckets
In their own sad lives.