Scary Blues

I am seeing scary things. No one does but me. I can’t afford my meds. Why aren’t they free? Spent three days in hospital, Gave me some bus fare. Is there a place for me? Can’t remember where. Do I have food to eat?—no, no. Place to sleep?—no, no. Care and friends?—no, no. Make a scene and end up in the pokey. Fewer beds are there for me. I need help, not jail. We need to organize— Must the system fail?