So I’m delerious with a head cold
and I listen and look at things intently.
I’ve been wanting to write and get it over with.
Get them all out of my head, all these responsibilities
that I’ve picked up somehow like this hazy fever.
Rant and rave on paper, die and get famous so
my friends will fight over what was written about whom
now that each poem goes for a million dollars a word.
Be a freak and wack out until nobody cares anymore.
Stay really skinny and make people worry that
“the genius” is going to snap one day.
Get put back on Ritalin, Lithium, Magnesium, Geritol;
whatever the Doctor prescribes to keep me in line
and remove all the knives.
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