The Fence

Shake the fence all you want,

Woven chain-links ringing,

Hands numb of vibration.

When I asked for your help,

I didn't mean a fucking fence.

Or a wall.

Or a room.

Or a hole.

The fence isn't going to move.

It won't uncoil, or

Distort into a door.

Where's the white-washed room

Hollywood promised me?

We've tried exorcism,

But depression isn't possession,

And a therapist isn't an exorcist.

Mania never translated into happiness.

Go ahead,

Build your fence.

Gawk at me,

The mutilated,

Beast that I am.

Cut me,

I still bleed the

Cherry cough syrup

You call blood.

Psychoanalyze me,

Like you're some sort of exorcist.

Where's the subtlety?

Where are your credentials?

Confinement,

My poison.

Poison,

My cure.

I'll still climb your fence.

Climb it till I fall,

Ring it like it's Christmas.

Heaven my dead end.