Silence

This poem was published in the University of Southern Indiana's literary and art magazine, FishHook in the fall of 2010. I had just begun writing and this may have been one of my first attempts at poetry, so I'm still slightly surprised it got published to this day :P

I sit here, surrounded by white walls.

They want me to think about how I got

stuck in a rehab clinic.

Rehab clinic is such a cute little

institutionalized phrase, when what they

really mean is loony bin.

Truth is, it all boils down to

one bad game of mini gulf.

I’m there, ready to put that

annoying little ball into the hole

hidden by a revolving windmill,

and suddenly I’m on my knees.

That elusive voice I’ve been ignoring

is gnawing at my inner ear.

That horrible squawk that says

‘You’re not good enough’,

‘You will never make It’.

I have to get rid of

that horrible voice with its

nasty truths slipping into my brain.

So I pop more of those tasty little pills until that

damn voice shuts the hell up.

I don’t remember what happens next

in this story of mine.                                                              

All I know is I’m here, the

voice is back, and there aren’t any pills

to make it go away.

I remember the first time I got a taste

of wonderful release

like it was yesterday.

High school theater class behind thick velvet curtains,

dust motes floating between me

and the twitchy senior who

shoved the baggy into my hands

as soon as he had the wad of bills.

I didn’t even wait for

the curtains to settle before

I had those lovely little

capsules settled under my tongue.

After that, the places

I obtained that blessed silence

were a blur.

Dark seedy bowling alleys,

 the shifty parking lot of the

Wal-Mart on the bad side of town,

grungy alleys behind bars;

anywhere to get it.

The places where no one

looks at you too hard.

Before I landed here

where I am supposed to sweat it out,

I always imagined

landing in jail for it. It seemed like

a certainty waiting at the end

of a long line of unfair.

I never hurt anyone.

I just wanted to be happy…

and get that silence.

Can’t they understand that?

No, apparently not.

All those doctors in white coats,

they will never get it.

Them and all of those people making the rules.

The politicians in the White House,

making laws to keep us in line.

It should make sense that

none of them would understand

the necessity of silence,

since they never

shut the fuck up

By Alissa Tsaparikos