Strait Jacket

I am not an exceptional human being
for we all wear clothes
Slobbing around in PJ’s when
our tranquilized, minuscule world
is encapsulated
in a space called home
Killer heels when we’re facing the
fucked up world and we remember
who we are, and we straighten
our crowns
Perchance a smidgeon of warpaint
as our battle cries holler into
societal combat
Cherry lips and spider lashes
spun with purest L’Oreal

But I?
I wear a white strait jacket
White as in hospital issue
boiled to death grey
Sanitised and purity leeched
It looks rather smart with
my lithium eyes and my
lunacy smirk
I don’t wear it for ladies’ luncheons
as padded cells are lonesome bistros
And all that cutlery is contraband
And I’m not fucking Houdini

When my couture isn’t a
hospital inspired affair
I am living one
Valium junkie
Lithium chick
Watching the wall for
the clock tock ticks
which govern the drugs
which make me well
But make me sick
Don’t go high, you’ll crash
Don’t go low, you’ll crash
Can anyone tell me
how to score
a gram of sanity?

Does anyone want to
hold my strait jacket for me?
Try it on?
Wear it with me?

©2020 Sarah Drury

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

I Had a Dream

I thought about ending it all
of that sweet release
as I drifted off to sleep
Would it be all devils and pitchforks
and sunstroke in Hell?
Or would it be angels and clouds
and harps and Prozac?

And I had a dream
Like Martin Luther King
Except in mine I was knocking on
the doors of heaven
and they were locked
It said no mentally ill in here
And at first I thought maybe
they hadn’t seen
my clean heart
I had showered today and
that was a start
I didn’t look like a hooker
with my fuck me heels
and ripe cherry pout
So let me in

And I had a dream
like Martin Luther King
that even in my darkest hour
With pills in my palms
and debating the relevance of
my existence
Perceptions of the mentally ill
Would lose their sting of sour
Mental, loony, crackpot, psycho
lunatic, schizo
negative, negative, negative, negative
Tie me in a straight jacket
Lock me in a padded cell
And don’t forget the lithium!

And I had a dream
like Martin Luther king
But the people of colour
were free
and the mentally ill were slaves
And society was a hotbed of prejudice
And they put us in glass cages
And they paid a pound a peek
And they laughed
and they laughed
and they laughed

And I had a dream
Like Martin Luther King
where I knocked on Heaven’s door
and it was closed
Like the job applications
Like the lovers I’d had
Like the aspirations of being
‘normal’
Like my fake faced friends
Like my destiny

And I thought of the one thing
that tethers me to this Earth
And his tiny hand slipped in mine
And his tender heart healed my wounds
And I knew heaven
didn’t need another angel

©2020 Sarah Drury

Fake Friend

You all know the type!

You call yourselves a friend
Lipstick painted selfies
on your four caustic lips
of your two vitriolic mouths
of your two faceted faces
One eye as vigilant as
a ravenous hawk
Sparkling with the thrill
of intoxicating gossip
The other black
as an executioner’s hood
But faceless
unlike yourself
And I wait for the axe
to fall

I bear witness to your
two faced vitriol
Your Fakebook falsity
Your P’interest pretensions
Your Instagram irony
Your five hundred followers
your two thousand likes
Insert love heart emoji
Vomit

There is no angel
for a back stabbing bitch
As you wield your
Gordon Ramsey knife
and carve a noxious laceration
in my spine
But you are the spineless one
Your bones are brittle
with back fence talk
The fishwives would
make a place for you
at their table
Gutting their fish like
you gut my nonchalance
The ocean is teeming with haddock
Too many for the women
with the clackety clack tongues.
And too many for you
my dear

©2020 Sarah Drury

Tsunami

I have been drawing for around 4 or 5 weeks now, and enjoy it so much. My soul gets completely absorbed. I can concentrate for hours, when normally I can only concentrate for an hour at the most, when I’m watching TV or a film.

Here’s a poem:

When I put my pastels
to my paper
I get lost
in a vortex of fervour
Colours cascade from my
feisty fingers
Chroma hints
Pigmentation lingers
Cut like a diamond
dripping indulgence
on a distinguished rapper
I am rapt

Dazzling, decadent, daring
My mind dissolves
into a technicolour maelstrom
Splash of red, hint of blue
Unbridled passion sways from
these unostentatious hands
Difficult to believe
the ebb and flow from
my whirlwind mind
of shifting sands
I am a palette of tsunami
A riot of imagination

My gleeful tools
worship my paper
Making love
to the beguiling texture
of this creative emotion
A passionate mixture
Cherishing inception
with religious devotion
Trading my soul
for an effigy
Igniting the cognition
of self-expressive perception

Every stroke of colour
that blesses the canvas
is a spiritual atonement
And the completion
is an act of contrition
And I lose myself

©2020 Sarah Drury