Freedom of Speech

Freedom of Speech

Big, hairy arms, grab your small ones,
hold them in a vise-like grip;
Shove you into the back seat of
a black and white car
with a cherry on top
that smells like sweat and vomit.

Driving, driving, driving to who knows where,
so they can manhandle you some more.
Yanked out, patted down, undressed,
showered, your hair sifted through for bugs.
You must wait your turn to
see the doctor.

Lighting your cigarette by
holding it in your mouth,
and sticking the end of it
into a hole in the wall.
No matches or lighters allowed.
You might hurt yourself,
Or someone else.

Nurse Rachets and Dr. Strangeloves
looking you over,
asking you intimate and personal questions.
No, you don’t want to hurt yourself.
No, you are not depressed.
You just had a bad day, week, month.
Just trying to keep the kids in line,
and your cup overflowed – just a bit.

TRYING to sleep on a metal cot,
with a three-inch mattress,
which is probably insect-infested,
and is definitely saturated with urine
and most likely semen, as well.

Looking at the clock;
the one with metal bars over it,
like everything else in that place,
so we fruitcakes won’t have
“episodes” and throw things at it,
and break it. The hands aren’t moving.
What time is it? Is it almost day?

Unlike the clock, you are now broken, though,
by them;
but you won’t tell “them,”
because they might keep you here
against your will…for even longer
than “just 72 hours.”

There is no freedom of speech
when you are “emotionally out of control".

For if you say ANYTHING like:
“I don’t know WHERE I’m going to go;
why does it matter to you? Maybe I’ll…
Maybe I’ll just drive off
a fucking cliff.”
The police are required
to take you into their custody
and hold you against your will.

For observation. Like a laboratory animal

Then, they send you a bill
for $4,500 “for services rendered.”

On your behalf.