Charging rent to the demons that live in my head would do nothing but give me more money for the medicine that creates them. Enjoy your free stay; just please, stop talking so I can sleep.
Dear Doctor, thank you for the Ambien. But, I am now too malcontent-ed spending hours upon hours expostulating with the comments being made behind my back; deafening flows of words from people who are not even there.
The medicine I get prescribed for talking to myself makes me one hundred dollars a month. The medicine I get for being afraid of people makes enough for new socks and food. The medicine I get for being sad at night makes me laugh a lot so, well, I gave it to the girl next door because she is pretty and I want her to laugh, too. The medicine I get for being afraid of love keeps me high enough until...
I can smell you on me again. I must have spent my night sitting fecklessly with invisible friends. Introduce all of your left hand written letters to my altar, for contact means nothing when content can be found on corners. I will hold my villains close - their shape, an oblong fear. So, please let me shoulder you and lie about any reward I can bring. I promise a mouthful of crock; my words, to...