Just A Statistic Poem by Kevin Patrick

I'm just a statistic
Who's just another number
I need to kill someone
To find myself a doctor



Time's vacuumed my soul
and my conscience is revoked
There's lots of little holes
Where my minds decomposed
And there's scabies in the ceiling
between the cold war hemispheres
while flooding whispers are shrieking
A reproduction of King Lear


There's bars on the dollhouse
Where ship of fools sails
I'm getting looks from a door mouse
Who's eradicating the veils
behind tableaux's of impressions
words are pouring from the guilty
wraiths in Wordsmiths clothing
Elicit rudiments of frailty



So I'm just a statistic
A calculated problem
Who need's to kill someone
To find myself a doctor



Now all the vases have shattered
To the sailors blue sojourn
While the cellar doors fractured
On the camels backs hump
I've swallowed my condolence
And given sanity its notice
Paid the dues for moral patience
But am conscripted as its patient


There's an Obscured Riviera
For the tears in the halos
Where all hope is primavera
To the black holes with cradles
Buried half forsaken diamonds
Underneath impoverished sandboxes
Where the cows are all whining
To play more games on X boxes


Now I'm a statistic
A unit that's measured
Between good and bad
Who just needs a doctor



Where do you go?
When sanity is long missing
and melodies rampaging
through a highway of skulls
That's been ransacked in a dell

I have been lectured to screaming
from a drill head that's peeling
My cranium's now leaking
With a hemorrhage that's creaking


You climb the clouds to go down
onto the sea of fellow exiles
Looking for answers in the pavement
Where no real truth is written
And you're stitched into pieces
that are detraining threads
From the residue of straws
Broken from the camel's back
You can listen to in surround sound



Now I'm just a person
killing myself looking
To find a good doctor
Where I'm just statistic