Charlie and the Ward

His eyes dart around the room like a starving hummingbird
as he runs his hands through scraggly hair, shirt inside-out,
A tag poking towards his chin like a tiny tombstone with a washing machine epitagh
He paces and tells me the FBI put parasites in his blood
He likes to listen to radio static, crackle crackle as he mumbles about helicopters and plans to diabolically eliminate all us scrub covered babysitters
its not a ward, Charlie, its an antiseptic white vacation home-
here's your paper cup of shampoo, heres your prison comb
Don't forget to brush your teeth, Charlie, your mouth looks like a swamp
Muddied by your schemes and dreams.
Here's your paper cup of water, Charlie, take your pills and it'll be alright
Lie down on your soggy mattress - try to hold it in tonight?
Charlie likes to listen to the radio static, grinding through the air
Mixing with the antibacterial soap, the piss and shit and shine
And the rantings of a decade of lost minds