I saw crazies for four days
fuck you and your fucking compassion.
fuck off.   because.
I saw crazies. For four days.
Four.   Mother.    Fucking.   Days.

Tranquilizers
stabbed in my ass, on two occasions—
living with crazies— for four days.

Fuck you— You    don’t like this    Fuck you,
and whatever bullshit you will say
to suggest
that I’m wrong.
that they’re not crazies

Because

I saw a toothless woman
spit bible verses in my face Because
they took her cigarette away.
And I’d wrote an essay on why
I deserved to drink a soda that day.
Fuck you.

It was a fucking ghost, I swear it.

One guy said “snitches belong ditches.”
And the fat lady thinks she’s pregnant.
And this bird was shot in the head by her boyfriend

and he died in a fire

and I said “Good riddance.”

my cigarettes proved more than gold.
Fuck you.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. fuck you.

This is poetry, motherfucker.

It all happened. Fuck you
and your clever bullshit that’s
Not even that clever—as in,
I said they were crazy & so,
oh it means that I’M CRAZY

Oh, go figure. Fuck you.

oh i mean paranoid,
oh i mean sensitive,
Oh I mean fuck you
as in, fuck you
as in, fuck you
as in, what I said:
fuck you.

I saw crazies for four days.
and I enjoyed the motherfuckers.
Yeah. I did. They’re good people.
Fuck you.