The Halls of McLean

I spent roughly a year there, in two stints. Basically, two long halls with a kitchionette type area, individual rooms, a heavily armored screened in porch. An elevator with keys going up to staff floors.

And I walked the halls of McLean. Through the shadows and enduring the storms...

And there was Clozaril... the ashes and the dust rose into shape... were moved to a halfway house... Ran to CVS... took a cocktail... back to the house... there was EMS, waiting. My absence had been reported. 

By the time I reached Beth Israel Deaconess, I was in an altered state of consciousness...

Coma #2.

Woke up. Back to McLean. More Clozaril. Ashes and Dust is back. We're piled into a car, piled onto a coat or makeshift bed outside the nurses station at Austen Riggs, which tried to refuse me. Another year... A PhD and the drugs working their magic... Ashes and Dust reshaped. The Guardian Arose. No diamonds just yet... The child came home... the origin remained.

You spend enough time in places like McLean... You get like this...

There are plenty of shadows in those hallways... There are echoes in those hallways... there's very little light, and it's artificial. There's social workers barricaded in offices on the upper floor... The MDs walk around like Gods... The attendants move you around... You want nightmares? go to McLean. You'll find them. Metal doors with the small windows. Turn the key and you'll locked in all night.

Don't bother to scream. Won't make a difference.

They put him on TV, that God. He had a name. German. One or twice, he would take that key, turn it in the elevator door. turn a key for a particular floor, one of the staffing levels. I think there was only two floors above ground. It was the Mood Disorders and Psychotic Unit. 

I went back there once. It made no sense. When I was at Riggs. I went back. Walked right up to that armored porch. Stood around. Walked away. 

I'm supposed to help people? Like this? Good luck. I am the walking dead. I rise up again. I walk around. I am the Ashes, I am the Dust. I take a shape. I have a name.

Occasionally, I can put this down. Just don't talk about the past. There's things I don't want to remember.

I like to live a quiet life. Sensory hypersensitivity. I can hear from different rooms, different floors. Outside, I can hear for miles it seems. I prefer to mind my own business. I've heard enough.