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Institute Of Yearning

Updated on April 17, 2017

mental Hell-th

Institute Of Yearning.

Like a child he sits

fiddling with

the blocks

of an alphabet

he fails to grasp...

during his long recess

from sanity

Much later

he squats in a

bib stained with

a miasma of

graham crackers

and soured milk,

staining a plain

white strait jacket.

A simple-ton of grief

34 four years old

but left in the hood

of toddler

His folks remember

when he was

newborn and gurgling

his eyes bright

with life's wonders

and all the hope

they'd invested

in a perfect baby.

But then he never

stopped gurgling

and his eyes grew dull

under the weight

of the world.

Thus his parents stand

watching numbly behind,

the one way mirror

that reflects endless

re-runs of despair....

There is no reception

for them when they

seek to channel love

to their remote son,

only a twilight zone

where they age


and he remains

forever young.

©-Matthew F. Blowers III


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