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“The Mad Room It’s where I go when I’ve lost my temper, my mind on fire, no way around or out of the chair on the dirt floor in the cellar. I’m not one to give into her pressure, as corporal punishment is all it’s about. It’s where I go when I’ve lost my temper. Why does it seem she relishes trouble? The soap in my mouth, the foamy shout, only the hard chair hears my whimper. It’s where I go when I’ve lost my temper. The bare light bulb hums, little doubt I will die alone, kids the curious spider. My bottled-up scream, I can never tell her comes from the fear of living without her love, not from her duty as a mother. The room closes in, but I don’t bother to move an inch. Everything is silent except the hiss of pipes, an angry mother. It’s where I go when I’ve lost my temper.” — Jim Frazee