judy blue eyes

there was a time when judy didn't dribble.
a time when her eloquent voice echoed the sharp flourishes of her mind.
slow now. so slow now.
the ticking of the clock measures the dreadful daylight hours with clipped phrases. a pendulum that travels one way.
the wrong way.
she can't remember raindrops, nor the brittle light of early spring sun with its watery kiss floating in the sky like a promise.
hot days ahead. summer shine.
she cannot use the simplest of utensils not even a spoon. and that is all they feed you with in here, plastic spoons. you see you can't slit your wrist with a plastic spoon and you cannot penetrate your chest. you can gouge out your eyes though. just ask henry.
old henry.
blind henry.
he knows how to use a plastic spoon does henry.
there was a time when judy didn't cry all the time. a time when her laughter ran like the sense of water running. powerful and strong from the tributary of her heart to the ocean of her soul. no more laughter now though. just pebble stone cold tears.
'she doesn't know anything poor love'
'nothing?'
'no, not a thing. her mind is a total blank'

how come she weeps then?