["She thinks the monkey's bad luck..."]

I. She thinks the monkey's bad luck because of all the Institutions it's seen. A curious curious George hooked to my hoodie, with arguably racialized, inappropriate lips curling out to smile and greet the staff as I ask for the nth time why no release or where is Albeheary? By now, anything may well prove to be true, which, of course, is insane. II. Sometimes I lose it. If I can't wear it, When I'm on the outside, the backpack Or higgly pocket. Little higgly pigglies Tearing at the tongue. Speak to me. Who, art? Thinning. More vodka. This time Lakeshore third floor, My DTs I can't dial. The kindest black Trans/guy who did my dialing for me. Others tore their hair out or hanged themselves. My roomie he collapsed his lung Eleven times. This is his last trip to the place. Eventual. Even. They moved me I got the same roommate Last New Year's as the one before. The shakes are permanent. The stain all the more so, like nothing. Inside, a perpetual processing. This is prisoning. Ever emotion's measured. "wrong" (with you) This isn't as or like anything. Outside, I just want back in. III. At one point, there was something to it. As when he found a hernia on me in the tub And suddenly, "operation." Herr Doctor. Then hospital at five years old and a Curious Curious George story. How he went too. Or windup Campbell's Soup. Of course he slept there, for solace. For comfort. Night rounds. Book lernt animal instinct. Aping compassion. Inappropriate lips. The old testament wronged.