(untitled freestyle)

15 June 2016 § 1 Comment

This chair is green,
a weird vinyl that makes me
still, prevent movement to prevent sound.
The other office has those nice
lounge chairs, to stretch out and
become home.
I have been here before.

“I don’t want you to think I’m a
pill pusher-”

I walk out with
two scripts
with which to rewrite my life,
an umbrella I am hoping
will keep out the rain
without blocking the sun.

This numb momentum that has
catalyzed the last few weeks
(few years)
(since high school)
walks me to the counter.
My team of doctors holding
my lease like a tether,
balloon on a string,
hoping to pull me back down to earth.

“Side effects are usually mild, but include-”

I tell you with tears that I am at
the end of my rope, or
some analogy about straws and camels,
or another other metaphor
because it’s hard to convey these crippling emotions,
hard even to breathe.

Even now I am
stilted
disjointed
holding a pen like
a puppet learning
for the first time
to form words.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this-”

I am sorry to put you through this.

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