Shock Treatment Poem by Colin Greenfield

200 milliampers rearrange the gray matter and fragments
of a shattered soul,
reeling blindly toward infinity.

I wake tied to my bed with a sheet,
still, lost, lonely and
frightened.
On the nightstand my teeth chant Gloria in Excelsis.
And I see the face of God raging at me
from an empty beer can floating down a rain-filled gutter
in some desserted city where time hangs like an abandoned christ
on a cross of stone.
And life is still a string of empty box cars- no engine, no caboose-
headed down a lonely railroad track,
going nowhere.