Patient

A Poetic Response to "Sound of the Hollyhocks" by Hugh Garner

I can hear the doors
Their creaks are tales older than the trees they're made from
The wind doesn't whisper, it shouts,
Carrying the conversations of strangers lifetimes away
But footsteps are the worst
Telling fabricated stories of lands never reached
Just enough to make me discontent with where I am.

I am my diagnosis
A number on a chart
A pinpoint on a graph
So they can understand why they can't
I'm crazy delusional mentally impaired
Never been the same since that one day
But the doors they tell me otherwise
And I listen to the doors, not the doctors
The doors are louder.