Wormhole Sanitarium
David S. Pointer
The space asylum
had its own diagnostic
and statistical manuals;
its own online alien brides
forsaken over the cyber-
alters, it’s own inflatable
doll-bots dispensing all
medications meant to last
many an earth year and
methadone clinic criminals
denied eternal admission
into broken psyche-wards
undeterred, floating through
the halls in leaden slippers
dodging frontal lobotomies
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