from by Beth May

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Word up to One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest
‘cause doc, I fucking soar
wings wide for the horrors of 1960’s electroshock therapy
Given to the sick by sicker practitioners
And I wasn’t alive yet, just heard it was barbarism
Strapped up to old sparky to zap your spark out
It seems outta whack that I sold my brain out for it, not 50 years later
Some manic depressive kid looking for a late street drug called ECT
But me, I’ve always loved electricity
Me, I barged into a stranger’s party like a good-time halting policeman
the first time I felt it, electric
The full bottle of jager in my fist that buzzed with me until it was half gone
And I was full gone and I never realized until I stumbled into the streets sans ID and far from home
I was a little old to be playing cops and robbers
They call it mania
I felt like a mariachi band
And you can rob the night with electric maracas
Let ‘em know I’m owning it in this charro outfit that is not my own
On a strangers porch circling the drain circa 2008
So goodbye Phoenix
Hello Blythe, California
Just, electric, again
Running by road signs at 100 down I-10 to a mid-nowhere Mickey-D’s
That’s what the gods tell you to do
When you’re on the roof
Passing out pressured speech like scalped tickets
In a city with no home team but me
And always, the electricity
I’m rekindling that love as they’re hooking up my EKG leads
Like these ECT sparks might dull down these pure diamond-cut highs so I can’t see my reflection any more, bright and electric like the tallest of buildings in the wildest of cities like, yeah, that’s it, I built that with booze and coke and sex and there was no sleep and no medication required
They called me manic
I called me The Messiah
I thought others were odd for refraining
When restlessness nested in me
Nothing to be sorry for
God, after all, I’m Goded up, I’m the one and only, mania is love
Burning bridges faster than I could build them up
With thoughts that race at night like sunburnt kids running in rain
And is it bragging when they’re diagnosed as delusions
Because I’ve got an electric history
of ripping tags off hairdryers and dipping my future in water
I have stolen so many of my best moments by having a good time
Until they set me aflame
Until they set me aflame
Until this repetition of up/down is just lame freedom’s ghost and I can call it insane
Until depression’s got me by the throat again and
breathing’s a slow dance dream
Call it barbaric but
I am bored of the seesaw
Just give me up
Just hook me up
to 1960
Zap a brain but not a heart to be
always electric
Hook me up to that ECT
Hook me up to that ECT
So I can lay eggs in my cukoos nest
Smile for the birdy
Hook me up to that ECT
So I can meet me.
Because it can’t be barbaric to want to be



from the family arsonist, released February 10, 2015
"Me! " by Dead Peoples Records
Available on the Free Music Archive
Under CC BY license



all rights reserved


Beth May Phoenix, Arizona

I'm a writer/actor living in Phoenix, AZ with an additional poetry habit...Sorry that my voice creaks.

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