"TIC"

They put me here within this "white noise". I stare down at the tile floor (it's olive-green) to avoid those clown-like smiles. They put me here, in isolation, away from light of day. Living in shadow (like the others), scratching at the plastered walls. And just when the TIC in my head gets to be too loud... They stick me in their white jackets (to straighten me out). They stick me with their needles, and stuff me with medications. All the while to hide. the. TIC. Confined to this small space, forgetting how to live with noise. They say my brain is sick- (those clowns), but that's because it tics- (too loud). They tell me I'll be "better", strapped down to their beds. I scream- anything to break the eerie quiet. The silence that's so deafening, this...white noise.