off
you become grumpy,
not yourself,
at least not your sweet,
kind,
nice compassionate
self
that so many others
adore.
delusion is part of the equation.
but the meds,
though they
lasted through the night
have waned
and now i feel
the ache
and pain of a sharp scalpel
digging
into my leg.
i stare at the ooze of me
trying to break
out from under the gauze.
six weeks, the doctor says.
bite on
this piece of leather
meanwhile
and drink this.
a shot of whiskey from
an old barrel.
do you believe in
God?
God?
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