Hybrids

Maybe I should
Maybe I should tell someone
but I can't
I can't even begin to explain
the voices in their voices in the way they yell at God
through the stucco ceiling
I'm a man! I'm a woman! I'm your child!
Don't you see me down here
in hell!
the way they pack up all their tears
and head here instantly to help me
and any other crack dwellers
getting stomped on in the hustle
a hundred of disability money here
sixty hours of math tutoring there
with phantom leather restraints and the echoing memory
of screaming for a nurse, any nurse, please!
Shadows of tyrants haunting the corridors
of neurotransmission,
ethereal visionary versions drawing forth
deprived, de-activated angels
out of their assembly lines into
such precise calculations
and it's all true
aliens, conspiracies, the holy spirit
as real as my hand on the telephone
behind the door in a dark room, sweating
the condensation from my desperate whispers,
"Uh huh. I believe you. Lay down and hush now."
Which never has worked, but I commit myself
and for the love I bare thee, I hold it not misfortune,
but an honor for this lesson
in the tangible divinity, in being human,
they with one tongue, in apocrypha
scribbling sacred sharpie syllables
on otherwise witless kitchen walls
while hollow hipsters sit around tiny fires
talking about "psychos", saying, "I could name a few."
At such times, I envy emotional abandon
but someone has to protect them when
the neighbors call the cops because
they pray out loud.
someone has to speak more
politely for them.
Maybe I will.