One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

The Combine breathes through the vents, Big Nurse writes the day in straight white lines, McMurphy comes in all grin and burr, A bright bruise in the ward’s machine-time, And the Chief, deep in the fog, Takes the silence apart, One cog, one thought, one crack at a time. I tried, didn’t I? I tried, didn’t I? Through the fog, through the wire, Through the white stare of the night— I tried, didn’t I? And the truth, even if it didn’t happen, Still hits like a hand on the heart. They call us "acutes," "chronics," numbers in rows, But a laugh can lean on the lock and make it sing, The talk comes soft in the group room glow, Yet the mind keeps one wild, unsanctioned thing. It’s the truth even if it didn’t happen, And the ward can’t quite seal that seam. The fog is not peace, It’s hiding with a name, The Combine wants our faces blank, McMurphy leaves a spark in the frame. I tried, didn’t I? I tried, didn’t I? Through the fog, through the wire, Through the white stare of the night— I tried, didn’t I? And the truth, even if it didn’t happen, Still hits like a hand on the heart. The Chief looks out, And the ward keeps breathing— Not the same.