scream

he roamed the outer fringes of sanity. preparing to protect his soul from the coming darkness. his weapons were few. aluminum foil, duct tape and a collection of barry manilow cd's.

he remembered nights spent at the copacabana with a blue-eyed beauty who had once shared a dance with him.

or had they shared matching straight jackets in the waiting room at Las Encinas. he did not know for his memory had been scrubbed clean with electric sandpaper in a room benignly labeled "utility closet" by a suit with a misguided sense of irony.

despite the wattage voices continued to call out "marco polo" as he blindly searched the emptiness for a moment's peace. beyond the horizon of what he once called reality little green gremlins chased away the sandman. leaving him to contemplate four white walls and a door less closet. where his sanity had been pressed and hung. useless armor against the sharpened needles; which promised a new tomorrow grasped in the gloved hands of doctors who promised sustenance. but he knew better. bitter experience had prepared him for the truth. behind the surgical masks were renaissance clowns laughing manically.

and he screamed