Adjustment Disorder

I’m floating in an uncharted region of my mind. There are no faces in the portraits on these walls. Hitchhiked here from the medulla oblongata. Found myself sloshing it up at the pituitary gland. Provisioned further at the hippocampus and hypothalamus before setting off on foot to chase down a neuron, was told it ventured this way from nowhere, destroyed everything. My feet are gone. Where I’m going, I’m gone. But I’ve been there before. Not going again.

poems
on padded walls–
the orderly barks, Stop!
but I refuse
to surrender the crayon

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About the Author

Richard Grahn creates sculpture, painting, music, photography, poetry, and prose from his apartment in Evanston, Illinois. Creativity is his peace.