The Euthanasia of Thaddeus Adrian Ecker: Ironpike Mental Asylum: Inmate 17
The Euthanasia of Thaddeus Adrian Ecker: Ironpike Mental Asylum: Inmate 17
Whittle and scattles,
All lie about in the dungeons and dark
Abound with the dust,
Rattles and bones, and...
Pages whet with ink
Honed and sharp,
Rank with the must of years too long
Too swift, too tiresome, too hideous
Too pleasant too, and in foolish flight
Escape with the wingmen,
Side-by-side
Denial and misery brothers in arms
Among all the gyre and gimble
And mimsy borogroves,
A cat with red eyes smiles back,
His frame thin and black,
With poison words and poison teeth
He asks; are you lost? Turn back?
Seldom has been the grin without cat.
Slithering chains,
Restless Great Danes
And all the highway lanes,
Twisting-turning back,
Losing the ways and maps and eyes
Till falls noon
And wandering resumes,
All full of questions like
"Do I turn back?"
"Am I intact?"
Among all the gyre and gimble
And mimsy borogroves,
A cat with red eyes smiles back,
His frame thin and black,
With poison words and poison teeth
He asks; are you lost? Turn back?
Seldom has the grin been without cat.
Out of nature's delights,
The pleasant flights
The shares of cares
The winding fingers
Curl in upon themselves
Willing willows, old and grey
Where children no longer come,
Or play-
Such willows are no longer gay
Threaded with matte and oil and wax
Spun like flax and traveler's tales
Used up like whales,
And old unfashionable bad ales,
Wandering the twisted streets,
Lined beats of no police,
The madness entreats,
Without method or way
Calling silently
The frivolous inset talking, pointing;
"That is not, that is rot"
"That is unworthy"
Among all the gyre and gimble
And mimsy borogroves,
A cat with red eyes smiles back,
His frame thin and black,
With poison words and poison teeth
He asks; are you lost? Turn back?
Seldom has been the grin without cat.
When the end is come walking,
Like martyrs in their minds
Stepping on chains and binds,
And stuffed with plugs
And stuffed with rugs
Straight jacketed to your mind
And the man beside you long dead,
Chains and pains follow
Down the hallway with blood and dirt
And insanity in the cracks-between
The filth.
Among all the gyre and gimble
And mimsy borogroves,
A cat with red eyes smiles back,
His frame thin and black,
With poison words and poison teeth
He asks; are you lost? Turn back?
Seldom has been the grin without cat.
In the vast dark the only scream,
Is unheard,
That pitiful cry signaling the last,
The executioner's toll,
Down the hall, down you go,
Down rows of white doors,
And rooms long ago besmirched
Their wash.
Down you go,
Long ago you lost the fight,
Shadows in your head, they cannot get out.
Down you go, go, go,
The executioner's toll,
Fast closing walls, you cannot
Cannot
Cannot get out.
In your fear
In the dark of your prison all you hear
...
And none know which was the true;
You or you?
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