Bought a new tablet there the other day, one for my poetry writing alone
But as soon as I return home, if I feel that pinch so as not to give the fecker an inch I take out my other tablet, glass of cold water right there on the spot
Probably shouldn’t say but to be fair it will always and quite possibly forever be part of my day
I do prefer the technological tablet, although that said the others fairly technological too, just with the latter you need to make sure you don’t end up speaking through a castrated slew
It ain’t the highest dose in the world, in fact the doctor told me once that it was quite absurd given how severe my anxiety has been, lent over the sink, face bordering on red, but now just a freckled face, the way it was meant to be, owing to that tiny tablet I refer to as “pink”
Will I quit, I really don’t know, will I even be able to go on with the show then, or is it that daily dosage that helps me steer correctly ’til I find my ZEN again
So there’s two such tablets in my life, and people keep asking, “if you’re feeling that much better why can’t you think logically like the rest of us, find yourself a job and a nice wife?”
Because that’s not what I want right now, so on I shall plough ’til I can stop and think as perfectly as I see fit
This is the thing, that’s just is it, I may be thirty, but I’m most probably ten in my head because that’s where things left off, so onwards and upwards
But I also need to decipher between the rational and the absurd
I’ll get there in time, but right this minute what I write does for me seem to read