Toast

Shit you see in psych
is priceless

The woman whom
through delusions
convinced herself
that an unnamed man
breaks in at night
and rapes her
all while she is sleeping
soreness in the morning
and pills she refuses to take

To the man
who talks to God
frequently
blurring the lines
between crazy
and religious

The tongueless
screeching babble
hitting and throwing
calling me Satan
smashing puzzles

Bridget who disrupts
with toast
during relaxation time
breathing in and out
rattling drawers
dinging machines
her own little world
merging with ours
for a few seconds
then on it's way

I wonder if I'm someones
horror story from the ward.