die young

corralled
they sit in front
of the screen, the sound up,
too high,
but no matter, it doesn't
drown out
the woman singing.
the woman speaking, having
a conversation with someone
not in the room,
someone from her past,
now walking through
the corridors of her
mirrored mind.
the price is right is on.
and the birds on the edges
of chairs
and sofas, wheelchairs,
some soiled, some sleeping,
all stare at the pictures
moving like fish in
an aquarium.
die young you want to yell
when you leave.
when you unbolt the door
to go back to your world,
the smell of sweat and sickness
on your hands,
your sleeve.
die young, before this.
die young.