Jones Hall

This one's permanently disabled, intimate with the elevator.

This one's relatives have incestuous relationships and murderous tendencies.

This one's PTSS and depression invade every moment, every dream.

This one is too sick to get to class.

This one was just released from the hospital.

This one smokes too much, but eats too little.

This one's homeless and pays exhorbitant fees to spend every holiday alone.

This one was assaulted for years and is scared to take a shower.

This one's anxiety keeps her holed up in her room, every day, every hour.

And this one's planning to kill herself at the end of the semester.

What sort of freaks do you live with?

This poem is about: 
My community

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