Shadow companion,
I view your mountainside
and I am no longer
institutionalized.
Days scrape by on walls
beside blood and feces,
sadistic scrawls;
art for a starved mind.
I grow pale as sheets,
unsafe for sunshine
my spine in pleats,
a fuller silhouette.
Time dissolves the will,
the distant hillside of myself
more pleasant than the pills,
though I may never reach it.
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved
Poetry inspired by the artwork of Andrew Wyeth. This one entitled, “Helga.”
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Wow…this is powerful. What I get is that in some ways we institutionalize ourselves by obeying the mind and it’s conditioning. Hmm. Will reflect upon this more. I enjoyed this much, K.
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Thank you, Jeff. The immobility of depression, might be the worst kinda paralysis.
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graphic and haunting; love the artwork —
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Thank you,
John. It was a painting that formed its own words.
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it’s good when that happens 🙂
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