Medicated Mind

I walk through the halls and corridors of my mind.

Since medication, the rooms I find are quiet

or locked.

Some have a sleeping woman inside,

or a cat sunning itself.

A lot of laziness, quiet, and calm.

Even the dungeon has changed.

The light has filtered through some of the bars,

showing remnants of pitch and dry webs.

I miss the glow of the gardens,

the bonfires,

the flowered window sills,

the screaming and tears,

the revelry.

Calm is such a boring state,

without the raucousness that used to come,

from those rooms in my mind.